


Falling And Falling Invictus

by XExcelsior



Category: All For The Game, All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: AU, Drugs, Flashbacks, I have some other quotes from different things, M/M, Neil and Andrew meeting in a totally different setting, Nightmares, Rehab Clinic, Swearing, Violence, Withdrawal, a lot of terrible shit this IS aftg, ill throw in some fluff, inspired by fire walk with me and the poem invictus, same universe different shite, set after Neil's uncle executed Nathan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2018-12-26 17:52:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 40,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12064044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XExcelsior/pseuds/XExcelsior
Summary: Andrew and Neil meet in a rehab clinic. The question is, what events lead up to this?





	1. Falling

  ** _( Fire walk with me)"— Do you think that if you were falling in space that you would slow down after a while or go faster and faster_?"**

 

**_"Faster and faster."_ **

 

For a little while Neil was a "John Doe" he'd been unhelpful towards the police who were trying to figure out who he was, and after awhile they had decided he was just some random junkie.

Nobody had to know his name was Nathaniel Wesninski.

'Bandage check,' there was some woman here  _Claire_ or was it  _Chloe_ or was it...Neil couldn't remember, but the woman (nurse?) came around often to pat her hands against Neil's bandages and check if he was bleeding. The police still wanted to know why he had such severe wounds (signs of torture?) was it a drug deal gone wrong? Or a bad fight? Their minds must have spun with theories. 'I do wish, dear, you'd tell someone what happened,'

'It doesn't matter,' Neil replied, the woman pressed her hand against his head and frowned 'I'm fine,' he added on, there was a sickening amount of concern in her eyes as she walked away...no doubt she'd be back with a cold damp towel or ice pack. Neil sunk further into the chair and wrapped his arms around himself, his arms and wrists positively  _burned_ and  _itched..._ he wasn't sure exactly what he was hooked on, and he'd told police and the doctors that (apparently it was pretty common for addicts to take so much they forget what they're taking) Neil hadn't answered them.

Sometimes he still got flashes. Red lights, sparkling lights, the floor shaking and drumming, It had felt like an earth quake back then but was probably just the blast of music. He was sure he danced under the lights and spun his hands and leaned his head back, letting go like he'd never before. 'Here you go Neil. A nice ice pack to help keep your temperature down. Do you need anything else?' Neil shook his head but took the ice pack because she stared holes into him. 

Neil had to survive this.

God, how long would he be in this place, and had he destroyed his chance of being _court_? The thought of his dream being destroyed sickened him worse than the fever, he pressed the pack against his forehead and leaned back, staring into the ceiling. Red lights, red lights, the parting of his mouth as he mouthed along to the club music and swayed back and forth. Maybe he'd liked that night more than he wanted to. 

That night was smudged in his memory and he'd been too lost to care about everyone around him, what they were doing, or if they watched him.

Now he had a meeting with his doctor, Neil eased up from the soft chair and wrapped his arms around himself tighter, squeezing the wounds on his stomach and grounding himself, his legs burned and arms throbbed but he continued to walk. Occasionally he'd pat his arms and stomach to make sure he hadn't ripped any stitches.

'Hi Neil,' his doctor beamed, a warm girl she was. Neil didn't trust her, but to be fair he didn't trust anyone. 'May I start by asking how you are?'

'I'm fine,' Neil shut the door and slumped into the chair, he winced and gritted his teeth. 'When can I leave this place?' Neil had only been here for a day but it was an insufferable day, insufferable place.

'A few weeks, perhaps. From the blood tests you seem to have been on quite a lot of things, if you let us in a little bit we could talk about moving the date forward. But we can't even think about releasing you soon if we can't be sure, if you talk to us we could be talking a few weeks. If not, it could be months,' she warned. Neil winced again, and this time it was not pain.

'I. Don't. Know,' Neil pointed out, 'I don't know what is in my system. You're all so nosy about the wounds, if they don't have anything to do with drugs then it's none of your business,' he hissed, 'do I look like an expert?'

'Alright. How long were you taking these drugs?' She asked, 'if you know, of course.'

'Two weeks...or something? Two weeks to a month,' Neil guessed, 'I think it started small,' the doctor hummed in agreement

'what got you hooked in the first place, Neil? Think of me as your psychiatrist. We need to get to the root of the problem, so we can stop it from happening again and stop the relapse,' Neil didn't answer, he messed with his jumper (their) jumper, pulling strands of string from it and dropping it.

'It was an accident. I didn't like it, I don't do drugs. I don't even accept pain killers, alcohol. I've never allowed myself to be under the influence of anything that could stop my brain from working at full capacity. I'm not an idiot,' he deadpanned, 'there is no  _this_ or _addiction_ _,'_

'and yet you have all of these drugs in your system. Why is that?' She tapped her notepad and regarded him with a curious stare, 'peer pressure?' Neil didn't respond. 'Will you be willing to talk about your wounds? The police are still interested,' silence. 'Do you have a contact? Family? Friends?'

'No,' Neil replied. 

'How do you feel? Are your wounds okay? Signs of withdrawal?' She asked, Neil sighed and crossed his legs despite the sharp tingles from pulling at the stitches 

'A bit of fatigue and a headache. It's been... maybe four days off everything. Pain from the wounds, obviously.' Neil shrugged, 'now will you leave me alone?'

'You don't strike me as someone use to human interaction, a private person. Observant,' she pointed out, 'we're here to help you, Neil,' Neil crossed his arms and shrugged. 'Well, the police want you here until you're passed the withdrawal, then they wish to speak to you again. Do you remember when we brought you in?' 

'No,' Neil answered. He'd been bleeding, bleeding all over the sidewalk and trying to get as far as humanly possible. He remembered the white walls but they flickered between white walls, red and yellow walls, and bloody black walls, bending around his vision and snapping like a python. Institute, he was in some fucking Institute (rehab clinic? Mental hospital?) It didn't matter they all acted the same way.

'Bandaged like a mummy. You were delirious but not on drugs, you hadn't been for at least 24 hours. Going to meet someone?' She asked, 'I'm curious is all, Neil,' 

'Right. Curious,' Neil rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair, how ironic that he was a runaway - it was probably a very noticeable thing to people, the ways his eyes darted to each door and how he was full of secrets. Wasn't it a thing that a lot of runaways drank or took drugs? ' _Get through to him_ , is that what the police were asking you to do?'

'Now that you mention it...hold on,' she leaned down and Neil heard a clutter and the creek of a drawer opening, and then the bang of it shutting. 'Does the name...Gates mean anything to you?' Neil shook his head 'there were a few crimes in the area you were apparently found at? What about the name...hm...Wesninski?' Neil bit his tongue and shook his head. 'You can be honest with me Neil,' Neil shook his head again, they were closing in and sucking the air right from his lungs (it was a smart play) they were probably hoping and praying that Neil would reveal  _something_ he wondered if the sharp wounds, mangling his body, and the red hair and blue eyes...had the detectives caught on? Theorised that he may be Nathaniel Wesninski? Surely not.

'our time is up,' Neil gritted out, he stood and shoved the chair away and walked out of the door without another word. The only thing in his mind right now was the repeated word  _fuck_ Neil couldn't stand this stupid place. It might have well been a mental hospital, it's what it felt like and acted like. Withdrawal did crazy things to you, made you scream and cry and hit things. Made you vomit and your head spin. And Neil instinctively didn't make a fuss about things, he didn't want to tell the doctor he wasn't fine. 

The whole world was crashing down around him, sucking him into a black hole.

No longer a runaway, probably not an Exy star. What was Neil if not a lying runaway and Exy player? What was left? The brooding sadness that he reeked of and the awful memories and scars?

He couldn't find the energy to catch himself, stop the falling to his best ability for his wounds ached and his body begged for drugs. And the eyes, the hair, the strands of red hair he could see waving in front of his face tauntingly, the crystal blue eyes reflected in cups of water.

Perhaps Neil had died in that basement, by his father's hand. Perhaps this was his _hell_.  


	2. Dreams

_**(A Clockwork Orange)** _ _**(-We can destroy what we have written, but we cannot unwrite it)** _

Neil sometimes confused himself with Nathaniel, where did the _real_ one begin and end? Was it Neil's dream to turn those who fucked him over into glass or was it the dream of Nathaniel, the Butchers son. It sure sounded like a dream that a Butcher would have, did the person who Neil thought of himself as...did he stoop as low as revenge?

Maybe. But a different kind of revenge, he didn't want to cut anybody up or hurt them.

Neil sat with his knees pulled to his chest as he stared at the wall, socialise...play a fucking board game, that's what he was meant to do for his stay here. This place was hellbent on customs and satisfying you, hellbent on you healing yourself and your body, but this place offered no healing for Neil. This place wasn't a Spa it was a Jail. 

Red lights, red lights, words whispered into his ear  _how does it feel being stress-free, Nathaniel? This is freedom is it not?_ That was no freedom, but a cage wrapped around his ribs and tightening every moment. At that moment, dancing under the red and yellow lights he _had_ been so stress-free - not caring about his dead mother and insane father. But it hadn't been worth it.

The bell sung. Neil was tore out his thoughts and adjusted the socks on his feet, he'd barely been in his room a half hour before it was bullshit _group_ therapy time. He'd only been to one group therapy, and they had kept attempting to rope him into their discussions.

'I figured what more do I have to lose?' Some man was ranting about his life, but Neil treated this time like he was still in his room - his knees tucked to his chest and cheek pressed against his knee. 'And-... _tonight the party is private,'_ Neil cursed and jumped in his chair, his feet hitting the floor hard, the man speaking shot him a strange look and continued to speak, he had not, in fact, said that the party was private (but Neil's brain did) Neil leaned down and patted down his legs and thighs (a gesture that could seem OCD if everyone hadn't seen him limp around) there was a little more pain around his knee, he confirmed the suspicion that he'd pulled a stitch a little too hard when he lifted his trouser leg to find a little spot of blood on the bandage. Not enough to prove he'd completely tore the stitch. 

And then a fire tore up his leg from his shin, Neil whipped his head up and saw a gang of eyes watching him, the boy next to him had just booted his leg as hard as possible and caught his shin. He glared at the boy next to him and turned away, 'What?' Neil asked,

'I asked you how you were, you're still so new and we still don't know anything about you. The key thing, everybody, to remember is that it is okay to accept help,' a man said, another doctor he didn't bother to learn the name of that ran the sessions.

'If I wanted help from you I'd ask,' Neil replied

'what about the wounds? As you know it is quite common for people in their states to injure themselves, and it is common for it to happen again during the withdrawal period,' Neil hummed in response and leaned back 'It is also common to be nervous to speak about your experiences, you may experience a sense of embarrassment at your situation, but you should know we all share the same experience,' Neil very much doubted he could compare himself to anybody in the room so he remained completely silent and focused on plucking the string of his sleeve. Maybe he was determined to pick apart the entire sweater.

 _Fuck_ , this room was freezing. Neil stopped messing with his sweater and yanked the sleeves over his hands (but the heater was on, the green light shone on the front and air waved back and forth as it pushed heat into the room) Neil didn't know much about withdrawal but he wondered if this was apart of it, being so cold that your skin burned like you had frostbite, but in actuality you're overheating to the point of dehydration. Neil took one of the bottles of water from the table, ducked his head under it to watch the bottom for a moment and opened it, it smelled fine, looked fine. 

God...If he had to listen to another minute of this pity party he was going to drown himself (turn  _himself_ into glass and throw himself from the chair) their voices only seemed to itch his skin more. This felt like being dead but  _who_  was dead? Was it Nathaniel or Neil,  _the day in the basement, he'd swore to himself to kill Nathaniel, he refused to die as Nathaniel...but he wondered if he could really get rid of who he was? Especially since he didn't know if The Butcher was dead._ The last he'd seen of his father was _that_ night, he didn't know how long he'd been getting tortured but his Uncle Stewart had arrived (like a dream too good to be true) and in the mits of the fight that unleashed between Stewart's men and The Butcher's Neil had ran as fast as he could. 

Of course the police had bombed towards the sounds of gunfire, and Neil was picked up a mile away (maybe it _was_ a little obvious where he had came from) 

He had to get some fresh air, good thing they had told him they had a little play pen when he'd first arrived a day ago, this place was a joke. 'Alright everybody, next time I really want everyone to speak just a little bit. Communication is key,' Neil was pretty sure he could get through this without talking to everybody, thank you very much. 

He slowly stood up and disappeared into the mits of the crowd before that guy could find a reason to keep him here to talk.

He was much more focused on how many times he could run around the edge of the pen when he arrived (it wasn't anything like actually  _going_ for a run but it was good enough) his legs burned and stitches stretched in disapproval when he began to run, and people tried side-stepping him each time he looped around. His dream of playing Exy would never be over and he'd continue to try to play it (he'd also heard The Foxes were a team with several addicts on) they were a low racking team and laugh-worthy, but if they had Exy sticks Neil would join them.

Once he gets out of this place. Once he finds out who won that fight. 

Neil spent most of that night thinking about that fight, the guns, the yelling, the blood...his blood. It started with a breakdown followed by dashboard lighter followed by knives and cleavers. Nathan was going to cut his legs from ankle to hip to stop him running and fighting. Neil couldn't believe he was here, in Easthaven. Easthaven was his hell...the one-on-one therapy sessions that tugged on the anger that Nathaniel inherited from his father; The group therapy sessions that made his eyes roll back and bored sighs escape his lungs. The running In a play-pen cage no bigger than a bathroom, and the fucking biting cold running up and down his body and pulling goosebumps up onto his skin. His eyes and hair bare for everyone to see.

Perhaps Nathaniel had passed out from blood loss or pain, and now he was floating in a place that brought out his worst fears, in this place there was nowhere to run - no exits. Or maybe he'd passed out in that dingy bathroom with a needle in his arm...how could he ever think of identifying what was real and fake when he'd been taking drugs? ' _Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre, Cinq, Six, Sept, Huit-_ ' Neil didn't fall asleep until he hit _Cent_.


	3. Therapy

**(Robert Frost) (-They cannot scare me with their empty spaces. Between stars—on stars where no human race is, ** **I have it in me so much nearer home to scare myself with my own desert places.)**

When Neil woke up he realised he was beginning to get a handle on the schedule that this place worked on. His immediate thoughts were about therapy, he had his single therapy session, then group therapy (which would be awful) and some free time spent playing board games or socialising (two things Neil had no intention of doing) he slowly eased himself up from the bed and flailed his hand until it reached the medic kit.

Neil had been very clear the first day he arrived, next to police and straight from the hospital. He was not going to let any doctor fix his wounds up or even look, they would have to knock him out first. Apart from the occasional doctor visit they had promised would happen, they mostly let Neil keep up with his own wounds. Simple stuff. Cuts and rebinding his wounds. They had warned he wasn't allowed to remove his stitches which still irked him.

Neil lifted his shirt off and slowly unraveled the bandages, maybe his mind could never dream up wounds that look so real and so nasty. Giant slices and a few burns, but by far the worst thing appearance-wise was the big ugly purple bruises on either crook of his arms, mixed in with small scars - holes. Neil felt a shiver run down his spine and he rebandged them (even if he didn't need the bandages for them) and he pulled on a different shirt. Each shirt looked the same, white, long, cotton. Thick enough to hide his scars. He copied the bandaging on each of his legs and moved to his side-bathroom.

A small bathroom, a slight upgrade from the horrible dingy bathrooms he squatted in. It took a long moment to force himself in front of the mirror, large blue eyes stared back, the purple bags under his eyes only brought the colour out more. He was sure he had lost some weight. And the red fucking hair. Neil slowly pulled back the bandage on his cheek and winced at the mess of skin, lumpy and red raw. Neil knew instantly he'd have to get a doctor to manage the wound since he didn't have the stuff to do it himself, it's not like Neil minded much.

It was just charred skin, it didn't show anything. It was ugly, but it was by something hot not sharp, not long blades slicing through skin, but a small thumb-sized dashboard lighter. Neil stepped back and clicked off the light on the way out. _Fuck_. Neil stopped mid step with a small stumble, he gripped the wall and shook his head.  _This is nothing compared to what you've been through_ Neil thought to himself. He continued to walk. 'Oh, excuse me,' Neil had opened the door to his therapy room.

'Neil Josten, I presume? Yes. This is your session,' the man said, Neil nodded and stepped into the office, it was dark and creepy until the man stood up and opened the curtains, flooding light into the room that did nothing to help with Neil's sudden dizziness. 'Dr. Davis is busy today, Mr. Josten, can I call you Neil? I will be taking your session today,' Neil nodded slowly and sat down. 'How are you feeling?'

'I'm fine,' Neil muttered, he had to refrained from de-threading _this_ jumper as well. All of his clothes were going to be worn down and hole-filled before he left. 'I was never told what withdrawal will entail...'

'it can have effects such as cold flashes, dizziness, sickness and vomiting, headaches, fatigue. It's not an easy or pleasurable thing to go through,' the doctor said, 'but, as a doctor high up, Doctor. Davis and I will personally make sure you get through it all,' god, that didn't sound good at all. 'You can call me Doctor. Proust, do you have any questions?' He smiled.

'Not really,' Neil shrugged, he pulled his legs up and sat back, turning his head to watch the clock

'time goes so slowly when you're on drugs, doesn't it?' Proust hummed, Neil hummed in agreement, 'it can even make you feel on top of the world, like nothing can hurt you. A lot of people have said it stops them from feeling so much,' that sounded nice. 

'I can't remember what it felt like,' Neil mumbled back, he watched the clock like it was hypnotising him, this doctor was different - he didn't pry and he made Neil feel less weak for enjoying the drugs just a  _little_ bit.

'Oh why? Take too much at once,' Neil caught the doctors kind smile from the corner of his eye, as he added on 'if you're going to take again, take less as a start, Neil. You must have taken too much at once, desperate to stop yourself from feeling so much,' _desperate_. There wasn't a word more perfect than that one.

'I won't take again,' Neil decided, 'I can numb my brain with others things, I have hobbies,' he added on. 'I didn't want to take,'

'Oh, it was forced on you? How many times?' Proust asked, Neil shrugged. 'Was it always forced or after awhile did you start taking by yourself?'

'I'm not having this conversation, Doctor,' Neil snapped, he whipped his head around to glare the doctor down, 

'you're one of those ones, Neil. You don't think you are, you kick back but that's to defend yourself because you know it to be true. You enjoyed the drugs too much, they made your life good, better, worth _living_. You depend on them, you have to go back to them. When you really start to feel again and the withdrawal really hits you, you'll understand what I'm saying,' Proust said. Neil stopped and curled his hands into fists.

'How do I stop it from happening?' Neil demanded, 'I'm _getting out of here_ ,' he promised, Proust just smiled - maybe it was a pitied smile. 'Fuck You,' Neil stood up and stormed out, slamming the door behind him and gripping the strands of red hair in his palms. 'Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre,  _Cinq_ , **Six** , **_Sept_** - _FUCK_!' Neil swore and released the strands and bowed his head, leaning against the wall. He couldn't be here right now, Neil began running, though he ran more left and had to push himself away from walls to steady himself. He ran all the way into the pen. He ran circles like running on a wheel, as fast as he could with the space he had.

Day Three and this place was already beginning to fuck with him. Neil breathed heavier and heavier until he could feel his vision blurring. Red lights, he ran into walls then too. Veins pumped and vision blurry and hands attempting to steady him and an amused laugh. He remembered little flashes and a bathroom, he certainly remembered finally being free and going back to a shitty little abandoned home he'd been squatting in.  _Here you go, Nathaniel. A needle and some goodies. Let's see if you're strong enough to deny yourself._

No. He was going to do this, he had to. 'You missed group therapy, fuck head,' said a girl, she kicked his foot and Neil was pulled from the illusion he created - the memory - a few people were working out and trying not to glance at him. Neil rubbed his sore eyes and slowly stood up - he must have fell down at  _some_ point. He edged his way back over to where group therapy would have just ended and took several bottles of the water.

'May we talk, Mr. Josten?' Someone sighed, Neil looked up from where he was struggling to pop the lid off. The guy that usually held those meetings. 'Now, I do volunteer work for AA meetings, I'm very use to people like yourself. You shouldn't be afraid to ask for help, you clearly need it,'

'don't tell me what I need,' Neil muttered, he was working on draining the water and draining his mind from images 'I'm going through withdrawal like everyone else, not special, therefore I don't need you to check up on me like I am special,' 

'you _are_ a special case, Neil. -if you don't mind me saying- but you clearly have something wrong with you, and showing up with the multitude of wounds you suffered...' he trailed off, 'you can talk to me about anything, okay? Just between us.' Neil nodded and waited for a moment.

'I'm fine,' Neil replied, and began to walk off. He was too dizzy, too sick, to deal with the doctors and their pitiful watchful hawk eyes. 'Actually,' Neil turned 'I need this looked at,' he gestured to his face lazily.

'If you will wait a moment,' the man held up a hand and walked off, Neil presumed he was going to get a doctor, he leaned his hands on the back of one of the chairs and leaned down tiredly, messing with the water bottles. This place was so white and bright and creepy, it reminded him of a hospital. Neil's only experience with a hospital was awful. 

'Can I help you?' Neil deadpanned, someone stood and stared at him and stared until Neil slowly moved to one-side and the boy kept walking, 'could have went around,' Neil complained to himself. Maybe he just didn't like small spaces or going near people. Neil could relate. 

'Mr. Josten? I'm Annie, let's have a look at this wound, if you will follow me?' She smiled, Neil followed slowly. 'Is it a nasty wound?'

'Yes,' Neil replied, she hummed and turned the corner into an open door with a large curtain, like a little mini hospital. 'A burn,'

'Useful information,' Annie sounded like she meant it, Neil climbed onto the bed and allowed the doctor to peel back the bandage. 'Oh...' she caught herself and sent him a warm smile, a smile that hid the real grimance beneath 'who did this to you?' She frowned.

'A dashboard lighter,' was all Neil said. He winced a few times as she worked on spreading burn cream across the wound, she reminded him of Mary (a sudden thought that had him tensing) 

'There we go,' she smoothed out the new bandage and Neil hopped off the table with a small stumble, 'are you alright, Neil?'

'I'm fine,' Neil shut the door behind him and headed straight for his room to sleep for a thousand years. 


	4. I'm Fine

**Hannibal Lecter (and be grateful, our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real)**

Neil did not wake up slowly but he did wake up quietly, sleepiness wrapped around his brain, his hands curled around his blanket and pushed the white fabric away... and his chest tightened. The room was white, and bright even when daylight was barely there. There was no cold basement or dark rooms, but a warm and white room. Somehow the warmth and white did little to ease the anxiety Neil felt. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, it took exactly two steps before Neil suddenly felt very off.

Two steps, and a single minute until a burning sensation clawed up his throat.

_'Alex,' Mary smacked Neil's shoulder (his good one) the left shoulder, Neil rubbed his shoulder and looked up in response 'we're running low on gas, you need to get a handle on yourself,' Neil's shoulder burned, it burned like his throat burned. 'Is it infected?' Mary turned back to the road and started forward again, yes, that's where they were. Heading east on a highway. Neil tugged his collar until it revealed the burn on his right shoulder._

_'N-No,' Neil decided, 'not infected,' he rubbed his forehead and bowed his head 'but I...don't feel great,' Mary -almost- scoffed, the noise wasn't so much of a scoff as it was a noise of denial._

_'You can't be sick, Abram. We have to leave soon, the gas is very low and you cannot stop for any reason. When you stop, you'll die. Get a handle on your body, what are you?' Mary asked,_

_'Fine,' Neil answered, Mary hummed in approval and tapped on the wheel (more of an anxious thing than anything)_

_'Never let yourself be too weak to run,' Mary said. Neil nodded quickly and unclipped his seat belt, sliding out of the car seat, 'are you ready to go?' Neil sucked in a deep breath and waved away the rising nausea,_

_'Y-Yeah,'_

'You know, you're meant to aim for the toilet,' Neil slowly rose his head, he was in the bathroom, head held over the toilet and on his knees 'I think you fainted,' Annie, the nurse from yesterday. She was sat quite close to Neil and frowning with concern. 

'I'm fine,' Neil whispered, he inched away from the toilet but a hand on his back kept him from not going too far 

'I should really take a look at your wounds, Neil. To check for infections,' Annie pointed out, Neil shook his head quickly and inched away from her, 'I know you don't want me too, but, Neil...-'

'I'm fine, I'm not sick,' Neil recited, he gripped the wall and tried to inch his way up it, until Annie forced him to sit down again, 'open the door,' he said, Annie hesitated and Neil squeezed his eyes shut 'open the door!' He said again, she pushed the door open and Neil opened his eyes, taking in the light that suddenly flooded the bathroom. It drained the tension from his body.

'Look, Neil, no offence but this is my job and I know about this a lot better than you do. You're not okay, and you're going through withdrawal, you're going to be vomiting for quite some time,' she warned, Neil shook his head.

'No offence, Annie, but this is  _my_ job. I don't have an infection and you're not looking at my wounds. Like I said the first time I came here, you'll have to knock me out. Now stop touching me, I'm fine,' Neil smacked her hand away and tried his hand at slipping up the wall again, it took a few minutes but he managed to get himself to his feet. He stumbled through the door and looked up, noticing the two nurses that (despite it being their job) glared at Neil with seven hells of fury. 

He would have thought they'd be use to mopping vomit, but apparently not. He slowly made his way over, gripping whatever he could to steady him, a wardrobe, a dresser, walls. 'Hi, Neil. I'd heard you weren't well,' Proust smiled, Neil rolled his eyes back and stumbled around the Doctor to throw himself on the bed. Neil clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut as pain rolled in waves through his body, 'I came to talk to you, I was going to discuss this in therapy but you were unable to attend. It's quite important,' Neil waved a hand and the Doctor thanked the nurses on their way out, Annie followed and shook her head at Neil.

He didn't care much if he disappointed her. 'I'm fine, actually,' Neil pointed out, he curled his hands together to hide the shaking and looked away from the Doctor.

'I've been assigned to you, Doctor. Davis will no longer be seeing you,' Proust said, Neil sighed and leaned his head back.  _Great._ 'Withdrawal has finally truly hit you,' he tutted, 'I think I've figured you out, Neil Josten. The wounds, the defensiveness. Not to mention those little ticks of yours,' Neil wasn't aware he actually had any ticks, 'let's start with this. The phrases. The abusive little phrases you say, the "I'm fine's" and the French,' Neil tensed up and glared at him, 'things you say to stop yourself doing something? Things you say to stop panic attacks and the nausea in your body, runaway,'

'you're in way over your head, Doctor. And outside your boundaries,' Neil gritted out, 

'You're running from something -someone- is that why you started taking, it all became too much. You've suffered a lot haven't you? And the drugs numbed it,' Proust sighed, 'with the withdrawal and all you've been through, how you're alone, how will you be able to fight against the urge when you leave?'

'because I never chose to take, that's why!' Neil snapped, 'you're wrong about everything, you're wrong because your patients  _chose_ to take drugs, they like drugs, depend on drugs. I don't depend on anything,' 

'Not _all_ of my patients. Now, the drugs were  _always_ forced on you?' The Doctor sat beside Neil and shook his head slowly, 'am I right in assuming that is what you're saying, that it's the truth?'

'fuck you. I won't talk to you,' Neil warned, 'there's no point in being my doctor. You're a vindictive runt, I hate your guts,' 

'You're full of secrets and pain. How could you not choose to take?' Neil flinched and drew back, smacking the hand away from his stomach 'scars?' The doctor asked,

'No- I...no, just,' Neil stopped and shook his head, 'I said I wouldn't talk about it, I said I won't let anyone see. You'll have to knock me out first, Doctor. Proust,' he challenged. Neil slid to the edge of the bed, and climbed off, humiliatingly he only managed a few steps before he collapsed onto his knees.

'Get some rest,' Neil didn't need to run because Proust was doing it for him, he left the room and shut the door on the way out. Neil clenched his hands into fists and looked down. He had to run, before the withdrawal got worse and he'd be bed-ridden. Neil flailed his hand but there was nothing close enough to help him up, so he inched backwards and gripped the bed frame and lifted himself from the floor. Neil was going to run in the pen if it was the last thing he ever did. 

It took some time but he managed his way to the door, stumbling and slamming his stomach into the wood agonisingly. He gripped the door knob and shoved the door open, almost falling with the velocity of how quick the door swung. Un, Deux, Trois- he kept counting, going higher and higher until the numbers stopped being in his head, and he was digging his nails into wall plaster and speaking aloud. 

He didn't stop the counting until he reached the pen. At the pen was (unsurprisingly) Annie, with two other people. Seemingly, looking after them. There was a couple of buckets and cloths and water, Neil inched his way into the pen and breathed in the fresh air. 'Josten, are you insane?' Annie demanded, she just about lost her mind when Neil started his stretches and then jogging. He had to jog in a tighter circle since there was a girl in the top right corner, and a boy bottom right corner. The girl was older than Neil and seemingly kept to herself, legs spread out and relaxed.

Neil couldn't tell the age of the lump in the other corner, his face was mostly hidden by a large hood and his knees. He had pulled himself tight into the smallest ball he could, Annie was talking soft to him, but glaring at Neil all the same. Neil managed four circles before he collapsed against a wall and Annie shoved a bucket under his chin. 'I'm-' Neil couldn't even convince himself he was fine, because he was vomiting again, his stomach constricting and head throbbing like he was dying. 'Why-' Neil slowly slid himself down the wall into the bottom left corner and took the bucket.

'What was that, Neil?' Annie asked, she passed him a water and Neil sipped it carefully, 'you don't seem very use to being sick, that or your stubborn to do your runs,' she smiled

'that doesn't matter. Why is Doctor. Davis no longer my doctor?' Neil demanded, Annie ran a hand through her curls.

'I'd heard she'd passed you over. Special cases demand special doctors. Davis wasn't equipped to assist someone like you, Neil. The defensiveness, the closed off attitude, the wounds...' If Neil heard the word  _special_ one more time he'd lose it. 

'Proust,' Neil said, 'of all people. He's a dick, he doesn't believe anything I tell him, and he's convinced I can't do this. Change him again,'

'Neil, if you had of just been more open about the wounds you wouldn't need a specialised doctor,' she sighed, 'He's the best equipped to deal with you,' Neil put the bucket down and sat back against the wall,

'I won't talk to him. Maybe I would have talked to a different doctor...' it was a lie, but she didn't need to know as such. 

'I don't make the rules, Neil,' she said, 'do you need anything else?' Neil turned his head away, leaning against the cool wall. He'd never go back to his room again...not when out here there was cool air, cold walls and floors. He had everything he'd need in this place, water and buckets. Food, but Neil didn't eat much food (just the required amount) 

'you get Proust?' A gravely voice asked, Neil opened his eyes and turned his head to the corner,

'Yeah. Do you get him? He's such a dick. He doesn't believe anything I say, and I'm sure if I took again he'd grin and cackle and dance around the room. It's like he wants me to take again. I'm so close to punching him - then I'll be stuck here forever,' Neil ranted,

'you made the mistake of thinking I cared,' the lump replied, Neil scoffed.

' _You_ asked,' he pointed out, 'does he annoy you, or is he just out to get me?' The boy didn't reply, so Neil turned back to the wall, stroking his finger up and down the rough texture, 'I didn't want to take in the first place. He makes me feel like it's  _my_ fault,' he whispered, the head raised for a second and Neil caught the flash of brown eyes before it lowered again. The boy was silent, but Neil somehow felt like he'd been heard  _just this one time_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I had the entire chapter written and was about to post it and lost it all so that happened 0.0)


	5. Un Deux Trois

  **The old vicarage, Grantchester** **(The lies, and truths, and pain? ...oh! Yet stands the church clock at ten to three and is there honey for tea?)**

_Neil received a text from Kevin at 2:43pm, he'd been playing for a low-ranking team up in Millport for two weeks, dancing with the devil (tempting the devil) by not moving around a lot. But the sudden urge to play Exy had striked him like a racquet. The text read "Nathaniel. I saw you playing a game up in Millport, I'm sorry that I managed to sneak my number into your phone, but I knew you'd run away if I approached you. Your second throw was awful, by the way." And they had continued to text, embarrassingly, Neil could hardly stop himself._

_When they were younger he'd liked Kevin Day a lot, he was cocky and impatient, but also sweet and kind in a way Neil had not been use to... "Kind" but not pushy, if Neil told him to leave it or if he said he was fine Kevin would leave it (and try to distract him with Exy, change conversation topics) and he was Kevin Day. Kevin Day the Exy star, excuse Neil for still feeling a bit star struck even if he knew Kevin had always been an impatient bastard. And then one day he texted (using his newest alias and longest alias Neil) "Neil. It's an emergency, it has to do with Riko and Jean. I think we're in danger" And Neil couldn't leave until he knew Kevin would be okay._

Neil hadn't slept. He remained up for the entire night with vomiting, his throat was red-raw and his eyes burned with sleepiness. He figured he looked almost as bad as he felt. 'Neil?' Neil looked up slowly, he'd wore one of those bigger pieces of clothing he had that day, he didn't want to feel restricted. The cloth pooled at the bottoms of his hands and flicked every time he moved.

'What?' Neil mumbled, he could have laughed when the man went on to request that Neil rejoin the circle, Neil shuffled the chair back into the circle, and then leaned his forehead on his knees tiredly. It felt like the day after being hurt, when your muscles were weak and sore, and you could barely keep your head up with the whirls of dizziness that spun the room.

So, effectively, Neil had caught nothing from this meeting and it was a waste of time. But now the best part of today came, the pen. Neil slowly walked his way to the pen, his body had at least began to heal some from his wounds and that in part helped aid him in his walk over. Once again, the lump was in the bottom corner, but he was the only one outside. Everyone else sat in the main area and argued over shit board games. Neil slumped into the corner that he was tempted to declare as his. 'What, no run?' Deadpanned the boy.

'I can't,' Neil muttered, he dropped his head onto his knees again and stretched tiredly, he'd love to have a sleep but he didn't want to struggle back to his room to do so. Plus, they'd wake him in an hour for food anyhow. 'I'm tired,' he added on. Neil wasnt going to mourn the lack of sleep, though. Sleep never shut his brain off, only made it more active. 'How far into your withdrawal are you?'

'Personal question,' He replied, 'How about a truth for truth?'

'like a game? What are we doing, distracting ourselves from the withdrawal?' Neil asked, he rolled his eyes at the thought. But when he thought more about it, he didn't know about this kid, but he sure wanted a distraction from withdrawal that didn't entail his memories. 'I'll play, how far into your withdrawal are you?'

'Not far. There's some vomiting, but mostly it's crashing. About as far as you are, from what I can see,' the boy replied, 'where did you get your wounds?'

'that's how it's going to work? We're going to ask any questions we want? - fine, they're from my father,' Neil gripped his knees and looked away, '...what's your name?' Now the kid was looking at him like he was an idiot.

'Andrew,'

_Kevin had stopped texting for two weeks. Neil had felt a fear for a person he'd never felt before, he'd even used his phone more often (an act which killed him inside) then he received a text at 8:07am asking him to meet up._

'I'm done playing today,' Andrew adding on, Neil could have spluttered, a question or two each? Was that how often they'd ask each other questions? (Neil would have to pick the best possible questions) but not a lot jumped out at him about Andrew. Andrew and Neil basically acted the same, Andrew wouldn't speak during group therapy, from the sounds of it he got Proust too, and he spends most of the day in the pen.

When the time to eat rolled around Neil did what he had done for the past few days, took his food and sneaked back into the pen. A nurse had came out the last couple of times to make sure Neil was actually attempting to eat it. Neil felt more fatigued than he did sick, so he tried to keep the food in his mouth and not drool it out from tiredness. When Neil was too tired to chew, too tired to eat at all, Mary would shove food at him and put her hand over his mouth until he swallowed.

As strange of a woman, she cared deeply. (Neil sort of wondered if he could care so much for a human being, and not just care for Exy) he supposed he sort of cared about Kevin, (Mary when she was alive) ...Jean.

_'Riko?' Neil questioned, 'I'm not too surprised you're here. You and Kevin were always attached at the hip, where is he?'_

_'Kevin abandoned his phone - along with his spot on The Ravens. Why am I not surprised?' Why are you not calm, was a better question. He looked like he was already starting to get frown lines and his eyes were drawn with fury. 'I texted you to meet, I've come to recruit you,' Neil froze and opened his mouth, and closed it. Riko had texted him to meet._

_'Why did Kevin leave?'_

_'He broke his playing hand. I fear there's no way to save his mind just like there's no way to save the hand. He's lost it,' Riko sighed, 'it seems like he doesn't want to do anything Exy-related, I suppose he's waiting to tell his fans who will be devested, even more so that he won't captain for me,'_

_'Why is that, Riko?' Neil demanded, 'your brother suddenly doesn't want anything to do with you? Kevin's not like that, he's a coward, therefore he'd go to people for support since he can't support himself. I'm not playing with you,'_

_'I'll ask one more time,' Riko gritted out,_

_'The answer is no, Riko,'_

Neil turned the plastic fork in his hands and breathed in the harshly cold air, he'd read up about Exy right before all of this happened, he'd never seen anything about Kevin. The thought was a little scary, perhaps Riko buried him. He wasn't above burying anybody to get what he wants. Un...Deux...Trois...fuck. This was all Kevin's fault, why had he left his phone. Why had he texted Neil in the first place. Neil had suspected Kevin needed someone to talk to, someone he could trust, someone he could count on to hide him? Maybe?

_Then he stopped texting him for a week. The next week he must have broken his hand. Then Riko showed up. It wasn't hard to connect the dots of the situation, observation was Neil's thing. Fuck Kevin._

_Red Lights, Neil was staring into red lights that reflected in his blue eyes. He imagined his eyes looked red at the moment, and his skin yellow from the opposite yellow lights. 'Stop,' Jean said, Neil slowly lowered his gaze and stared across the entire room until he caught Jean in front of him. Stop, that was as good of a word as any to snap him out of the daze. The way Jean held his body was clear, he was asking, in a way, if Neil was okay._

_'Ca...uh can you,' Neil spluttered,_

_'It's too risky,' Jean replied, 'do as you're told,' he added on. Right. Jean couldn't help him, or get him out of here. Neil flailed his hands and shoved against Jean's chest, and stumbled around him, 'don't be stupid,' Jean hissed in his ear, he arms were around Neil's waist, looking more like they were dancing rather than arguing and struggling with each other._

_'Get off of me!' Neil threw his leg up but Jean shoved it back down, he registered some words..._

_'Na...yo...panicking,' Jean's voice and face wavered in and out of Neil's vision, 'stop panicking. Un, Deux, Trois...Nathaniel!' Neil grasped as Jean violently shook his body, 'Un, Deux, Trois,'_

_'Qu...Quat...Quatre, cinq...six, sept,' Neil whispered, 'please,'_

_'Nathaniel, you will get through this,' it sounded less like a reassurance and more like an order, 'Un, Deux, Trois. Focus on details, what can you see?'_

_'Red,' Neil whispered, 'people. I...I'm wearing a button up black shirt. Riko,' Jean whipped his head up, and noticed the same detail as Neil, Riko was approaching._

'Good morning, Neil. How are you feeling today?' Proust beamed, Neil hummed in response and turned his head, watching the clock as it tick tocked by. 'You know, this would go by much quicker if you would just be clear and honest,' Neil didn't respond, 'how are we suppose to let you go if you don't cooperate?' He'd get out eventually, he knew this much. He'd rather talk to the police a million times over than talk to this man one time. 'We're not just sitting in silence, Neil,'

'You talk, I listen. Remember?' Neil sassed, he allowed the man to talk but didn't listen to a single word, instead he got lost in his own mind and replayed those moments in his father's basement, begging him not to slice his legs, and then he remembered...well, it wasn't begging, but he certainly pleaded with Riko. Just a couple of times before it was yelling and hate-filled words.

'I understand this will be a slow process,' Proust said, Neil hummed and lifted his eyes for a moment, and darted them back to the clock

'Bye,' Neil stood up and shut the door behind him, god, he couldn't stand Proust. Today Neil was thinking about going to the pen to see if Andrew was there, but instead he turned and went back to his room, his body was beginning to heat up and his clothes were starting to rub uncomfortably on his skin. He needed a shower so badly, but he didn't know when he'd get a chance to have a shower alone - he probably wouldn't - he must have went longer without showering before, he could do this. Neil lay back on the bed and shifted, even if this place was awful, the beds were better here than at Evermore and the abandoned lot he'd squatted in.

He closed his eyes and eased back into the bed, the cold sheets were sticking to his skin and soothing his heat just a little bit. Neil was enjoying the relaxing until his door nearly fell off its hinges, Neil jolted up, hand flying for his pillow where he would have previously stored a gun. Andrew stood in the doorway, he inclined his head left and walked out, Neil gripped his chest and slipped off the bed. 'Un, Deux, Trois-' Neil whispered to himself, thankfully he was just about able to keep up with Andrew because they were both moving slow like zombies. 'Why did you almost burst down my door?' Neil breathed, Andrew was easing into his spot in the pen, seeing other people there, Neil sat directly in front of Andrew.

'Who got you addicted?' Andrew asked,

'I thought I made the mistake of thinking you cared,' Neil smiled, Andrew's face was blank and eyes vacant, but Neil still caught the look of his body, it could barely be caught unless you were sitting very close, but Andrew was quaking like a leaf and tense all at once. 'I got drugged. And yes, I know who drugged me,' he shrugged. The shrug was just to conceal how angry Neil still was about it. For awhile Neil thought he'd never feel anything but anger ever again, he thought that was the only emotion left in his body (but his father came along and surprised Neil, wiped away all anger and replaced it with fear) maybe it wasn't fear as such, it was a broken feeling where Neil felt like he could scream one moment and be too quiet the next.

But now Neil wanted to scream one moment, be ghostly silent the next, punch walls the next. But never cry. 'Ask your question,' Andrew -demanded-? It seemed like Andrew had just a tad more energy today, he seemed rearing to go with a million questions on the tip of his tongue. Neil had just one.

'What got you addicted?' Neil asked, 'or...um, more like, why did you start taking?'

'Stealing my questions,' Andrew pointed out, 'I tried to kill three men and the law placed me on obligtory medication. I'm being taken off of them,' Neil nodded slowly and tugged his knees under his chin, 'Why aren't you scared?'

'Thats your question?' Neil realised he sounded unbelievably shocked, and then he realised maybe someone more normal would be more freaked out, 'it's...not scary?' Neil tried, wincing at his attempt on describing how he felt. 'It depends on who you are, why you did it. Even if malicious I'm not sure you could get past my father's rank,' he smiled, it came out crooked and maybe even like a wince. Andrew didn't answer, and maybe that calmed Neil a little bit (surely a dangerous man would boast about his -almost kills-) but Andrew's eyes were dark, the sun shining against his skin and showing the sickly pale tone to his skin, and the beads of sweat. 'Why did you try to kill them?'

'they harmed mine,' Andrew replied, 'my cousin Nicky,' Neil slouched and breathed out,

'family, yeah,' Neil mumbled,

'hardly,' scoffed Andrew, 'I'm done playing,' Neil nodded slowly, but neither attempted to move, Andrew leaned heavily against the wall and tugged his hood up, concealing the tuffs of blond hair. He shook violently enough to give the appearance of a seizure. His mother jerked like that in her last moments of life (only hers were desperate) Andrew was just dealing and attempting not to care about his withdrawal.

Neil vomited yesterday's food into a bucket, and Andrew didn't ask him to go away. Small wins. 

_Neil was following and trying to keep up despite the hordes of people dancing past him, he felt his chest ease up for a moment when he reached the bathroom and the music was drowned out by the door, replaced by anxiety at being in here with three ravens._

_'Nathaniel,' Riko smirked, he stepped closer and gripped Neil's arm, turning him until his back was facing away from the door 'I told you to sign,'_

_'and I told you if you couldn't make me then you'd lose me. That was the deal,' Neil snapped, 'you must be insane if you think I'd play for you, look at what you do to your players, you destroy their chances of being court. Jean is a wreck all of the time,'_

_'players have to be put in their rightful places,' Riko stepped closer 'sign the contract. This is the last time I'll ask,'_

_'Fuck you,' Neil spat at his feet and glared at him, Riko nodded and stepped back and the ravens on either side grabbed at Neil's arms, Neil fought back, kicking and flailing 'you said you'd let me go if you couldn't get me to sign! You said you would abolish your "rights" over me!'_

_'One overdose, a freak accident, what is in store for you I wonder,' Riko thought outloud, 'I'm going to destroy your chances at court, I'm going to humiliate you. Hold him still. One thing you have to understand, Nathaniel, is...I lie,'_

'Maybe you may prove to me interesting,' Andrew commented, Neil had no idea how Andrew dealt with withdrawal so easily. Maybe he'd come off his pills before? 

'Maybe you will,' Neil challenged, he shoved the bucket away with his foot, 'I'm sick of this,' Neil knew he had a few weeks left of this, and this was barely scraping the edge of what he was going to go through in a day or two, it had been a decent amount of time off the drugs. The drugs were starting to itch at his subconscious, he rubbed his hands over the crooks of his arms and bit his lip. He couldn't believe the itch to take was back, was tickling at him and trying to get his attention.

This would destroy his chance at court if he didn't get a handle on it. And quick. 

_'please, you can't do this, One player is bad enough...'_

_'you said so yourself, you're not my player,' Riko looked positively insane, eyes dark and full of dark intent. Neil flailed harder and threw his head back to try to dislodge the hand shut over his mouth 'I'm going to have Jean shoot you up next, your faithful companion. We'll see how tough you are when you truly realise you're all alone,' Neil groaned behind the hand and tried to shift his arm, bruises were already beginning to show with how hard they gripped his arms. 'Maybe at some point you will overdose, too,' The arms, the support system, suddenly he was being released. Neil went to run and found himself running sideways into the wall, his arms lighting up with fire (something that shocked him since he didn't feel the other needle going into his other arm) '_ _This is a private party, go dance,' he grinned._

_'Th...is...this is...this is big...sh...shit Riko, y..you can't get...' Neil stumbled over his words, over his own feet, gripping at the wall and bumping his head softly against the cold and rough texture, trying to will away the spin in his brain._

_'Can't get away with it? When we stop, you will keep taking and it will be your fault. You'll ruin yourself,' Riko beamed, 'and then I'll throw you to the wolves, to your father. You really think you can deny me when you belong to me?'_

_'Fuck you,' Neil spat._

Neil clenched his fists and ran his lips along his knuckles. He'd ran himself into the ground, he'd kept taking after Riko. The situations he'd put himself in for a hit...that was one of the many things he didn't want to give up to anyone (even Andrew who was giving him big truths) Neil wondered if he'd start thinking more and more of those times the more dazed he'd get from withdrawal?

He didn't exactly want to.

Un, Duex, Trois. 


	6. Exy

  **John Green** **(It always shocked me when I realized that I wasn’t the only person in the world who thought and felt such strange and awful things,)**

Neil wondered if Andrew mirrored him today, or was he slouched in the corner of the pen? All Neil wanted to do was go outside and breathe in the cold air (maybe run) and quite possibly talk with Andrew again. It was nothing, and it was mutually and strangely mundane. Withdrawal was a lonely thing, the more he craved the more he found himself sinking into a dark place and any interaction (apart from Proust) was an uplifting thing. Neil's mind and thoughts were too jumbled to push Andrew away and the voice of his mother didn't exist in these thoughts.

The "never stop running" and the "don't trust anyone" the bruises from staring too long at people who were particularly pretty (even if Neil was just interested in the way they held themselves) perhaps that's why Andrew was so interesting, he held himself in a way that was unique to everyone else Neil had known. (Neil wondered if he held himself in an interesting way that also caught the attention of Andrew) 

Neil felt less lonely when the nurses noticed his disappearance and one brought him food, however, Neil suddenly felt looked after and he realised that he definitely didn't understand why he had felt lonely earlier, when being alone was better than being nagged and looked after (especially by people who acted like they cared) 'I can't leave until you eat at least half,' said the nurse, Neil glared at her but she was either use to people glaring at her, or Neil wasn't scary. He attempted to comply anyway. 'The doctors seem to be quite pleased with your process, Mr. Josten. Tough one ain't ya? I can tell this is ya first withdrawal, you're not the type to go to rehab more than once. Before you know it your life will be normal again,' Neil hummed in acknowledgement.

'First time professionally going...sober,' Neil cleared his throat and palmed at his sweaty forehead, he didn't like to admit when he needed help (but secretly he'd convinced himself he needed help, because he did) 

'Ah, most people do that. Trying to go sober on their own, never works,' she shrugged, 'dangerous too,' Neil stired his soup and watched the liquid roll in circles 'the other doctors are pretty confident in your entire recovery, they noticed you made a friend is all,' Oh. They...she, they were being nosy.

'Mutual acknowledgement,' Neil replied shortly. Whatever she said after that went unknown to Neil because he'd stopped listening. 'Thanks,' he said, she took the bowl from the bed, sent him a look and disappeared through the door. Neil slowly pushed himself to the edge of the bed and struggled up (secretly thankful it took so long to reach the other side of the room) he knocked the bathroom door open and stumbled in front of the mirror. 

His brain didn't know what to drag up first, his appearance or the bandage on his cheek. Neil reached up and peeled it off with a wince.  _Riko showed him an image of himself, the newly dyed red hair (almost a shade redder than his actual hair) and the bright blue eyes only brought out more by the new tattoo on his cheek. The black -thick- four. Neil had slapped the mirror out of the pricks hand._ It was now a crisscross of scars and a large circular burn. 

That night Neil dreamed. Unfortunately Neil couldn't dream creatively, a zombie-version of his mother or his father covered in feathers (weird shit that people usually dreamed, right?) instead of something strange like that, something unexplainable, all Neil got were reoccurring memories in dream form.

This time he was staring at the blackened four in a shard of glass. Neil startled himself awake when the knife in the dream came towards his face. Despite his raw fear of knives, Neil would still rather carve the number from his cheek than wear it. He wished Riko could have watched him cut his skin until the number was unreadable.  _JR, did you learn nothing from your lessons? You haven't done a very good job of getting rid of the ink have you? I can help_ Lola, she matched Riko in how annoying she was and yet he still couldn't get her voice from his head.

Neil struggled to his door but it wouldn't budge (locked at night?) was it still night? Neil had assumed his room was dim. The only place left to go was back to bed. He couldn't possibly force himself to work out, his body wouldn't take it. But maybe he could get to the pen today, he'd slept some, ate some. He had yet to have a mental breakdown. Maybe Neil needed to take a page out of the doctors books and be proud in his process.

Half an hour later the door clicked much to Neil's surprise, he would have barrelled through the door if he could run, he'd even speed walk if he could walk. Mostly it would be a slow drag and grabbing of every object along the way (and bruise due to inevitable falls) Neil had already put on two shirts but he could feel a bitter cold on his body that pinched goosebumps into his skin and made chills roll down his spine, so he wrapped a third around his waist and tied it encase he got any colder.

Most people's doors were closed, either they weren't getting up this early or they were all sick in bed. Neil should be in bed, but he couldn't stand the white closed off space. 'Oh, hi Neil. Good to see you on your feet,' 

'Dr. Proust, I swear you follow me around,' Neil replied, 

'luck. Well, your sessions are being stopped for now, but they'll resume once you're clean for a couple of weeks,' Proust said.

'I'm not staying in here a day past being clean, so thankfully we won't have to see each other again. And no, I don't care if it's obligatory, I told you I wasn't talking to you. So, fuck off,' God, Neil reminded himself of his father in this state, his skin was just too sweaty and rubbing on him wrong, he was cold and tired and nauseous and he really couldn't keep his temper in check whilst in this state. 

'We can keep you in if we feel you endanger yourself or others,' Proust pointed out

'what is this place? An asylum?' Neil raised an eyebrow, 'keep telling yourself that, Proust,' Neil would stay in for those sessions if his father was alive. But if The Butcher and his men were dead, then Neil would sing like a bird to the police and they'd either pull him out to put him in witness protection, or he could make a deal (I will tell you all you want to know about The Butcher. But I can't do it whilst in here, if you know what I mean) These thoughts brightened his day, because in these moments of intelligence and fucking someone else over and blackmailing he was much more like his mother than father.

Neil continued his journey, slinking along the wall. The walk to the pen felt more like a boat adventure than a few rooms over. 'You're not dead, I'm disappointed,' 

'Andrew, you look awful,' Neil commented, he didn't look much better (in fact he looked much worse than Andrew) 'you must really like the pen for someone who isn't athletic at all,' 

'this isn't a sports pen, Josten,' Andrew deadpanned, 'I'm athletic when I want to be. Who drugged you?' Neil breathed in and slowly eased down beside Andrew.

'Do you work out or play sports?' Neil asked, Andrew raised an eyebrow 'I'll answer the question. I knew him as a child, not for long, maybe a week? We had the same interests. We obviously met up again, but I pissed him off so he really wanted to see me break,'

'would have been easier to kill you. Are you wasting a question on sports?' Andrew grumbled, Neil shrugged. He knew he was meant to be asking more nosy questions but he couldn't help the itching curiousity, and all Neil wanted was to strike up a conversation about sports...he'd even talk about any sport and not just Exy. 'Exy. Goal keeper,' Neil's chest tightened and he was stuck between excitement and...another feeling, deep and almost sad, a little like missing.

'Are you any good?' Neil smiled, 'I played as a Backliner and Striker before all of this,'

'Great, another Exy junkie. I'm tempted to tell you to go away,' Andrew wrapped his arms tightly around himself, he was pale and trying to keep down a wince from what Neil could tell about his expression and tense body. He must have vomited up everything in his stomach. 'Where is your father?'

'I don't know,' Neil whispered, 'he might be dead, might be alive. I didn't see. What are you afraid of?'

'Heights,' Andrew answered,

'really?' Neil mumbled, of all things for someone who supposedly nearly killed three guys...heights? That's what made Neil so much more comfortable around Andrew, Nathan and his men...they were monsters because they feared nothing and loved hurting. 'Being high must have been shit then,' Neil said. He realised it sort of sounded like a joke a few seconds later. 'I mean...I, the first ever time I was drugged I was terrified, it felt like I was floating up into the air and my feet couldn't find the floor, Andrew didn't respond but he didn't need to. Neil slouched down against the wall until he was almost laying down, and held out a hand. 

'What?' Andrew snapped. 

'I'm not wearing it and you're shivering,' Neil dropped the shirt from around his waist into Andrew's lap and closed his eyes, relaxing into the wall. Andrew was apparently feeling as snappy as Neil today, it was strange because Andrew always spoke with a tone that was deadpanned and filled with no emotion and his voice was always raspy. Neil jumped when Andrew smacked his arm, 'what was that for?'

'you've been staring at the wall unblinking for five minutes,' Andrew answered, 'what were you thinking about?'

'No,' Neil said, Andrew raised his eyebrows, 'memories,' he answered. 

'You don't think about memories, you think about specific things from memories,' Andrew pointed out, 

'I was thinking about when I use to take, okay? Okay...don't give me that look, Andrew. I wasn't thinking about how much I miss the good fucking old days. Not good memories, okay,' Neil turned away, 'I'll take my turn another day,'  Andrew's face said it all  _you're interesting enough to distract me from my withdrawal_ Neil was almost thinking the same thing. Several moments later Neil saw a shift to his right side and thought Andrew was leaving until he saw him beginning to do push-ups.

Andrew was insane. Totally crazy. He was shaking and sweating and still attempting to work out, distract himself. Neil curled up and watched Andrew get nearly ten push-ups in before he was shaking too badly to continue, but it brought back that feeling again that  _missing..._ Neil wanted to go on a long run and swing a racquet so bad it was almost as bad as the actual withdrawal. Even on the _run_ he didn't feel constricted like he did now. 'Don't look at me like that,' Andrew growled.

'Like what?' Neil asked,

'like I'm an Exy overlord or your  _answer_ ,' Neil smiled at that and shrugged,

'maybe just  _athletic_ overlord,' He replied.


	7. Sun Down

**Carl Sandburg (Only dreams closing the day and with the day’s close going back to the gray things, the dark things, the far, deep things of dreamland.  
 **

Neil didn't simply fall asleep, he must have passed out for a little while. When he woke up his head was against the wall, he had spent most of the day with Andrew and barely slept through the night with the clawing warmth up his spine, Neil couldn't take staying in his room so the second he had heard the door unlock he had headed straight for the pen (though it must have taken at least an hour to practically crawl there) Neil was definitely going to hear complaints from the nurses if he vomited in the hallway (today he had managed to only just get to the buckets in the pen) 

His neck ached from the strange curling position he was in, but he was too tired to move his body. 'You should drink something, Neil. I think you look a tad dehydrated, were you listening in group therapy, you're sweating a lot more therefore you have to drink more,' Neil drowned out half of what Annie had said and tilted his head up.

'Why do you keep bugging me?' Neil mumbled, he didn't make a move to grab the water so she placed the bottle beside him 

'Its my job to bug you, I'm afraid,' the nurse smiled, 'I may keep a closer eye on you today, you're really not looking well,'

'I'm fine,' Neil muttered, he opened the bottle and took a gulp of the water before closing the bottle and pressing it against his forehead 'is there any way to have a shower, alone? you could open my door a few minutes before everyone else's tomorrow morning?'

'Your wounds?' Guessed Annie, Neil nodded, 'I'll see what I can do,' much to Neil's relief she walked off and allowed him his time to relax, the air was cold and fresh and out in the pen it didn't smell so bad, this place was a hell that deserved a place in Neil Josten's nightmares.

His head was spinning, it was spinning like he was drugged again and for just a moment Neil could feel his heart spiking and his hands shaking even worse than they already were, he squeezed closer into the wall and gripped his knees tight and closed his eyes. This place smelt like vodka, it smelt like cotton and the same spray that Jean would wear, he could just barely smell it under his nose. Neil's eyes flung open, no, it didn't smell like any of those things, those were memories breaking through his moment of peace.  

Another lump was in the corner, the corner he usually was but his hood was up and his back was to Neil, clearly Andrew was too tired to talk. Neil closed his mouth and turned his head back into the wall, he was content staying in silence and not bugging Andrew too much today.

_'Bastard, bastard, bastard!' Neil chanted, he couldn't breathe, the air was stuffy and filled with the smell of damp and rotted wood. There were little shards of glass spread around from a mirror or glass bottle, Neil gripped one and held it up to his face, his face was numb and still managed to ache like none other. Neil tore the bandage from his cheek and felt the harsh grind of gravel and glass in his knees as he collapsed. 'Fuck you, I told you no!' He yelled to himself, he gripped a larger piece of glass -surely not a bottle- maybe a shard of mirror?_

_The drugs were already wearing off, he'd slept them off (or passed out from pain, more like) Riko had gave him so much last dose that he thought he was going to overdose and die, he remembered Riko's words "how does it feel, having the same drugs that I overdosed a boy with in your system?" Neil had thought it was a warning or Riko was informing him that he was going to kill Neil, in fact, Neil thought he had meant to but didn't use enough (he had thought Riko meant to kill him until he woke up on a bus with a numb face)_

_Digging the glsss into his cheek was a lot more painful now that the drugs had left his system, but Neil was angry enough to do it, was it even anger? It was this inexplicable feeling, if a breakdown was an emotion like sadness then Neil would say he was feeling_ _breakdown_ _right now. He didn't drop the glass until blood was covering his hands and making the knife slip more and more out of his grip, he scrubbed his sleeve against his face and curled over in pain, all at once his body acknowledged the various wounds and especially the new criss cross of scars on his cheek._

_But in a strange way it was like he was still drugged, his body was relaxed from the adrenaline pumping through it and his heart raced twice as fast. Neil lifted his eyes and met the item he'd taken out of his pocket and thrown when he first stumbled through the bent piece of wood and into the abandoned building. 'Fuck you, Riko!' Neil stood up and gripped his hair was a wave of dizziness passed over him 'I'm going to deny myself, you piece of shit,' Neil hovered his boot over the needle and squeezed his hands into fists 'Abram, do it,' Neil whispered to himself, 'Fuck!' He stepped back and gripped his hair._

_Fucking Riko Moriyama._

'Are you okay?' Neil asked, Andrew didn't turn his head - he didn't move at all - 'fine, I'm wasting my question on this. Are you okay?' Andrew turned his head for a fraction of a second and turned back, 

'No. Now I'm done playing,' Andrew whispered back, 

'Are you sick? You sound sick,' Neil said, Andrew didn't respond and Neil wondered why Andrew wasn't okay today in particular, he sounded sick but Neil couldn't see his face, it was hidden behind a messy bundle of hair and his hood and knees.   'I had this drug induced dream once, I dreamed the sun was going down and the world was moving down with it, slowly inch by inch. I always had bad dreams but they seemed beautifully tragic when I was on drugs,' Andrew didn't make any movement to show he was listening but Neil continued anyway, 'I wonder if the world is going to move with the sun when I get out of here,' inch by inch was Neil going to slowly be swallowed up by the ground, his life was the entirety of that dream (a clock, a death clock, ticking down until his inevitable death) 

Was his father going to be alive, thus triggering the sun. Or was the world going to be still at sun down. 

'You're annoying,' Andrew rasped, there was something about Andrew that made Neil want to keep talking and distract him, give him a story or something else to listen to. Andrew was _probably_ not feeling the same. 'You're a pipe dream,'

'maybe you're the pipe dream,' Neil replied, 'maybe we're _both_ just crazy and talking to ourselves,' Neil could see Andrew scrubbing his face against the rough wall and breathing in and out deeply, 'either way, we're getting through this. Is your cousin coming for you?'

'Unfortunately multiple people are coming,' Andrew answered, 'a runaway like _you_ doesn't have anyone coming for them,'

'you're right,' Neil huffed out a breathy laugh, 'though I'm still hoping for Exy,' Neil knew If he could see Andrew's face he'd probably be scowling, 'why do you hate Exy but play it, and you work out,' 

'not your turn, rabbit. Be quiet,' Andrew replied, Neil was sure Andrew answering a question outside of the game would kill him (like his own personal weakness) like throwing water on a witch. Neil struggled up, pressing his entire weight into the wall and began walking, hand grasping at the stone, Andrew glanced up and Neil caught his eyes for a moment, slightly sunken and pink. Andrew's gaze told Neil that this wasn't going to end well, but Neil couldn't bare not doing exercise 'you're pathetic,' Andrew said.

Neil continued walking, rolling his eyes at Andrew. There was something missing with Andrew today, where Andrew was -usually- unfeeling and deadpan, was something much nastier today, like he was trying to drive Neil away. Neil was stubborn enough to ignore his terrible attempts. 'You're only encouraging me,' Neil pointed out, he continued the slow drag past Andrew and continued around for a second slow lap. It wasn't anything close to running, but it wasn't sitting either. 

'I hate you and you're nothing,' Andrew pointed out, 'I can only encourage you to let me kill you,' Neil shot him a grin on his way past and collapsed back into his corner 'two laps? You really are pathetic,' 

'you're sitting here with me, what does that make you?' Neil challenged back, 'in group therapy I'm going to suggest we do something that will annoy you,'

'You really want to die,' Andrew deadpanned. 'Is your name really _Neil_ , runaway? I can smell the fear and desperation leaking off of you. The terror you feel for your father.'

'No, it's not,' Neil replied, 'now it's my turn. Why are you not okay today?' 

'Bad session with Proust,' Andrew answered

'he's taken me off of my sessions until my withdrawal is over, he's still seeing you? Why has he take me off, then?' Neil frowned, Andrew didn't answer.

'What's your real name?' He said instead, Neil tensed up and gripped his knees hard.

'Abram. It's the only real name I've ever had,' Neil whispered, 'I'll take my turn another day,'


	8. Big Truth's

  **W.B Yeats** **(Too long a sacrifice can make a stone of the heart)**

Admittedly, Neil could barely hold himself up; Neil felt as if he had lost mass amounts of weight and that his body could no longer hold itself together. He ran his hands up and down the scarred crooks in his arms, stared at the faint purple marks. His body looked no better, if he thought it was badly scarred before, it was unrecognisable now. Neil stepped out from the spray of water and gently patted a towel against his body. 

'How's it looking? Healed?' The nurse asked, Neil was half leaning against her, fully clothed as they walked the hallway back from the showers (he didn't particularly want her help but she wouldn't take that)

'Almost,' Neil mumbled, his stomach could be a game  _find the one smooth square of skin and you win_ 'where are we going?'

'to get you food. You don't eat much at breakfast times, which is understandable given your circumstances,' she said. 'Right here, sit.' People were starting to get up, shuffle in, Neil had barely saw a lick of any of these people but they were a mysterious bunch, some were his age, some were younger, older. Neil knew for sure he didn't like them, didn't want to be here, so he'd eat whatever she placed in front of him as quick as he could so he could escape to the pen.

_One time Neil got out of the car with his mother, he could hear the cheering of people from a stadium, it could have been a baseball game... but Neil's mind wanted it to be an Exy one - he imagined it. That was desire, that was a want that burned your chest and sent aches through your bones. That was a want like the want Neil felt when he couldn't stamp on the drug-filled needle. He didn't know how long he stayed in the corner of the abandoned building with his duffle - glaring at that needle._

_But eventually it was in his arm and his eyes were closing and the burning left, allowing him to suck in a greedy breath like he'd been deprived of oxygen, like he'd been drowning and managed to swim up for a breath. Things were quiet this way, no anxiety, no fear of his father's men or the Moriyamas, he knew he could deal with those fears they weren't anything new, but for some odd reason those fears and his want got so much worse when he wasn't taking._

_His mother was dead, father was never going to give up chasing him, he'd never truly play Exy, and he just had to carve a "4" from his cheek. And the drugs were a problem, a problem that Neil couldn't afford to have (both in the sense of money and the sense of aspiration)_

'I wonder what has you in such deep thought, missing shooting up?' A tray slammed into the table from Neil's left that jerked a startled flinch, 

'Andrew, you have breakfast?' Neil said, for some reason he didn't think Andrew would eat much of anything. For being on pills Andrew looked more like an actual drug addict with his pasty skin and thinner body shape. 'You're thin,'

'Oooo if I have to hear someone else tell me I'm thin I might just kill someone,' Andrew hummed, 'eat this, eat that, build muscle. Actually act like your playing, funny, funny, funny, hilarious. Andrew you're too thin but you eat too many sweets, _make up your damn minds people!_ '

'Your mood seems sporadic, are you always up and down?' Neil frowned, Andrew lay his head on the table and Neil was suddenly wondering if either of them were going to get out and beat this  _should he care if Andrew wasn't going to? They weren't friends..._ 'just take your tray outside,' Neil stood and grabbed the tray, just as he could hear Andrew burst out laughing when Neil suddenly felt the harsh collide of the floor against his hip as a wave of dizziness washed over him. 'I'm fine,'

'Isn't this place just a delight, Abram?' Andrew grinned, 'you're lucky you didn't spill any of my stuff,' Neil sighed and gripped the back of a chair

'I just tripped,' he muttered, 

'No that's a lie. It's really starting to hit you now, feel like screaming? Crying? Clawing your own hair out?' Andrew asked, 'board games and doctors, funny. Nobody needs fucking hot coals and Bingo to become clean. All they need is a room with a lock and a few weeks,' 

'Okay, my turn. What is wrong with you?' Neil asked, 'why are you acting so weird,' 

'Is it withdrawal, is it a disorder or two I have, is it a mental break down? All of the above,' Andrew bent down and grabbed the tray shakily, 'You know what they told me? They said I'd feel when I'd be taken off of the pills. I feel nothing, but today I feel angry,' angry, that was something at least. 

'That's your version of anger, passive-aggressive ranting?' Neil raised an eyebrow, he'd seen Riko when he was furious, and he'd seen his father when he was furious. Andrew as a whole other species to them. 'What is there to be angry about?' Andrew turned on his heel and walked off, leaving Neil on the floor. How could Andrew seem so emotionless and furious all at once? Neil watched Andrew's retreating from and blinked to dispel the blurriness in his vision, but the blinking wasn't helping. His head spun and his chest burned and vomit was clawing up his throat. Fuck.

_These lights brought back some memories of the night at the club, the first time he'd been drugged. The red and yellow lights that Jean pulled him underneath, and held Neil to his chest to keep him calm. But these lights looked more orange, spaced out so they filled the entire dance floor with orange. He didn't really know how to dance but there was still a tingling of drugs in his system from the needle Riko had left him._

_So he danced using the instincts of his drug induced mind and allowed wandering hands. He knew, objectively, he was attractive. But right now, he felt like his lazy head tilts and the large bandage on his cheek was giving him the aura of mystery, people liked a good mystery - a good puzzle to solve. People wanted to dance with someone they couldn't understand at a first glance._

_He'd done this type of thing when he was on the run with his mother. A survival. He could do this type of thing again._

'Neil?' 

'I'm fine!' Neil shoved at the nurse and sat up, he had a shirt shoved under his head working as a pillow and he'd been laying on the floor. Neil accepted the water shoved towards him anyway and the nurses went off - probably to clean up someone else's vomit. Neil knew he'd have to get worse at some point, worse than vomiting and passing out. He'd probably start hallucinating and begging (hopefully never crying, as he hadn't done so in a very long time) 

'Frankenstein's monster as he walks and breathes,' deadpanned Andrew, Neil shot him a glare as he slouched into the pit,

'have you gotten over your mood?' Neil questioned, Andrew stayed silent which was fine since it was more of a rhetorical question. 'What should we do for fun?' Andrew raised an eyebrow and Neil shrugged 'I can't play Exy so I'll have to occupy myself somehow, and I doubt I can exercise,'

'You're not a regular Junkie, you're an exercise junkie, an _Exy_ Junkie,' Andrew said, 'I want a fucking smoke,'

'Yeah...' Neil agreed, he leaned his head against the wall, 'I don't smoke, but I like the smell,' he breathed out. He watched Andrew stand up, and like the world (or Andrew) was mocking him, he could still work out. He jogged, did push-ups, it wasn't as fun as Neil actually doing that or playing Exy but it was better than sitting in silence. 'You never really said why you don't like Exy, despite you working out,' 

'not your turn,' Andrew replied, 'If your father is chasing you, where is the rest of your family?'

'I'm not sure where my Uncle is, but my mother is dead. My dad caught us and she got shot, ended up bleeding to death. I burned the body and buried her at a beach,' Neil sighed, 'the smell of smoke reminds me of her,' Neil knew it was probably strange to like the smell, but it was a comfort to him. 'Now answer my Exy related question,'

'It's boring. Slightly less boring than life itself, so I play it. I ended up professionally playing because of my twin and cousin, who both got a free ride and place on the Exy team as long as I played. I'm regretful of that - we're barely family,' Andrew grumbled, Neil was sure with the sheer amount of push-ups he did he'd end up sweating out all of the moisture in his entire body. 'Why is your father after you?'

'My mother and I ran off, took his money,' Neil shrugged, 'he needed me for something, my mother wouldn't have that,' that's all Neil would say until he definitely had to say something. 'You said that your family is barely your family, what did that mean?'

'I only just met them,' Andrew answered, Neil nodded,

'I'm exhausted,' he sighed, leaning his head back until it thumped gently off the wall, he really didn't know how much of this he could take. Squirming in bed at night and scratching his skin, burning up with the heat of his body and sweating through his clothes, the passing out, the vomiting. The memories. The memories seemed like they were being yanked from hiding the more Neil fell into withdrawal, his mind clawed for memories of drug use, or just memories to break him down. Exhausted wasn't an appropriate word for what he felt. 'Proust still thinks he's going to be able to keep me,'

'keep you?' Andrew deadpanned,

'he wants me in for a few weeks after I'm clean, for "therapy" this place is a rehab centre, not a mental hospital,' Neil groaned, 'I may have a few tricks up my sleeve,' Neil didn't know if Andrew was interested in his words, his plans, but he watched Neil (maybe with a bored look on his face) but Neil had already learned this was Andrew's default.

'Maybe you're not as much of an idiot as I thought,' Andrew didn't sound pleased by this revelation, 'I still hate you,' he pointed out. Neil smirked at him and lay down until he could feel the cool stone of the floor against the back of his head, he folded his hands over his stomach and turned his head to watch Andrew, 'staring,' Andrew said. 

'I can't make my body comply enough to exercise ' Neil replied, 

'I suddenly don't want to work out at all,' Andrew said. Neil squinted as Andrew sat against the wall, 'don't project onto me,' he nudged Neil's side with his foot. Being closer to Andrew was like looking Into a reflection, Neil suddenly realised it was him looking back, Andrew may be acting like he was emotionless, like he could exercise for a long time and have energy to spare after, but deep down he was struggling just as Neil was. His eyes were unfocused and his hands were by his sides clenched into fists and it was those words  _is it withdrawal, is it a disorder or two I have, is it a mental break down? All of the above._ Andrew was damaged goods just as Neil was.

'What do you miss the most?' Neil asked,

'It's not your turn,' Andrew reminded, 'I remind you so often that I doubt you can have more than half a brain,'

'Wouldn't kill you to indulge me,' Neil muttered, 'this isn't truth for truth, just conversation,'

'I miss not being near you,' Andrew answered, 'I miss when people didn't expect me to braid their hair and have sleepovers,' Neil rolled his eyes, was the question really something a _child_ would ask? Was that the implication? 'chocolate. I bet yours is drugs,' Neil smiled and shrugged,

'No. I miss going on runs every day, a couple of miles at 5am,' Neil huffed, 

'Not Exy, I hate surprises,' Andrew drawled, Neil hummed and watched his scarred up hands and the silver marks glow in the sun, 'wipe the pitiful, pathetic look off your face. I'm taking my turn, why not Exy?'

'I don't even know how to answer that,' Neil admitted, sometimes Neil worried that Riko Moriyama had done what he always wanted to...ruin Neil's love for Exy, make Neil think of awful things when he thought of Exy. Neil wished he could hate Exy sometimes, there was an intense fear for small spaces now, for Exy stadiums, and yet he couldn't keep away. But that was no different from running, Neil had awful memories from running, too. 'I never got to be alone when I played Exy, at some point I played with good people - too good, and it felt as constructing as Easthaven sometimes. I never got to _enjoy_ Exy, I was always scared. But when I went running, no matter where I ran, even when I ran in the dark in a small space it could never be anything but freeing,'

'So much of a rabbit you couldn't even enjoy a sport you're a fanatic about, how sad,' Andrew sounded almost -amused- but there was a mocking tone to it. 

'I enjoyed it - enjoy it. Swinging a racquet felt like being alive until I was swinging it to stay alive. I miss running the most because running was always mine, Exy has never been mine,' Neil pointed,

'so stop being a pathetic rabbit and make it yours,' Andrew cocked an eyebrow, 

'I am,' Neil said. That was why he said he wanted to go to rehab. After his father nearly killed him it seemed only appropriate to go now, carve himself a new life, a clean slate. But at the same time, if Nathan wasn't dead, Neil would be going through all of this just to walk out and lose his life - quite literally. 'So you miss chocolate and smoking, anything else?' 

'My arm bands,' Andrew ran his hand down his forearm and levelled a look with Neil, 'it's easy getting taken advantage of without a weapon, especially in our state,' Neil didn't know if that was a warning or threat, so it took it as both, but not to heart.

'This is a stupid game, I only miss two things,' Neil scoffed, two things that were outside of this place anyway. That didn't count dead things, that didn't count his mother, 'why have you only now just met your family?'

' _Mother_ was "too stressed" to deal with two kids,' Andrew answered, 'I didn't know I had such a big _family_ until a cop I knew mistook me for my doppelgänger. Here's a fun little game, Neil...we reveal a very big truth about ourselves, sounds fun, no?' Neil didn't think it sounded fun at all.

'I don't even know why we're playing at all,' Neil pointed out,

'starting to sweat, Abram?' Andrew challenged, 'show me your scars,' Neil paused and slowly looked at Andrew, he weighted it in his mind over and over. No. It wouldn't happen, but he'd be willing to let Andrew feel the scars, it would be better than a pierced gaze on those marks (on those very unique marks) Neil had to wonder what was so addictive about learning dark truths about someone? 

'No, no looking. If you really want to you can feel them,' Neil said, Andrew stilled and stared up at the brick wall in front of him, 'we can drop the scars thing, pick another,' it had only taken a few moments (and a few days of learning Andrew's mannerisms) to know that Andrew was curious enough to do it, but he didn't want to.

'Yes. I'll reveal a worthy truth, you don't even need to ask a question,' Andrew agreed, Neil nodded and sat up. He wanted to tell Andrew to brace himself but he felt it would be unneeded, Neil's hesitance to talk about his marks and to show them meant they were bad marks and it was easy to understand he must have a mess under there. Andrew glanced up and Neil watched the way his jaw tensed and his hands glided under the shirt. He felt guilty he couldn't bring himself to just take the shirt off. 

Neil closed his eyes, he knew Andrew probably wasn't going to say anything, and he knew if he opened his eyes he'd see Andrew's unwavering and straight face - it was hard to unsettle Andrew, and the feeling of scars wasn't going to do it...but at the same time Neil didn't want to risk any sort of look in Andrew's eyes. 'An iron,' Neil said, he could feel Andrew's hot hand gliding over the shoulder mark.

'Who fucked up your body?' Andrew asked, Neil opened his eyes and huffed in amusement

'Who didn't have a turn?' He grinned, it was so unfunny Neil couldn't help but grin. It was a maddening grin, his father's grin. And just at that thought the grin dropped instantly from his cheeks. 

'I murdered my mother,' Andrew said, dropping his hand from Neil's stomach.


	9. Proust

  **William Wordsworth** **(I wandered lonely as a cloud that floats on high o'er vales and hills, when all at once I saw a crowd, a host, of golden daffodils;)**

'Why?' Neil breathed, he stared at Andrew who stared back with an unwavering gaze, 

'Scared yet?' Andrew asked, Neil tensed up and took a moment to think over that question, he didn't think he had the capacity to be scared of Andrew. He wasn't even scared of Riko. Neil shook his head and Andrew broke the eye contact 'you have no self preservation,' he pointed out.

'Was it because she gave you up?' Neil mumbled, Andrew raised an eyebrow and leaned in close. Those eyes were back, empty almost colourless eyes, Neil didn't move and if this was his father he would have ceased to breathe...but this was Andrew, and Neil wasn't afraid. 'Have you ever actually done anything bad that wasn't for a good reason?'

'what a childish sense of Justice, Abram. Do you like breaking the law because you think you're doing something right, that's not how the world works,' Andrew tutted. 

'Oh, spare me the bullshit. Since when have you ever regarded the law?' Neil laughed, 'its a good thing you can fight, because you certainly can't lie.'

'At least I can do one of those things, Abram,' Andrew replied, to be honest Neil didn't even know if he was a good liar or not, he could have easily been lying to stupid people. Maybe Andrew was good at reading people or maybe Neil was dropping his walls too quickly. 'Why did your mother suddenly decide to steal you away?'

'My father wanted to pawn me off to his boss. I'd basically be his ward,' play Exy for them and conduct other business, the thought still chilled him. Neil remembered when he first entered the nest - well, his first time entering as an aware-adult, finding out that his father had always intended to sell him to the Raven's, and having Riko grin hours later and slowly put a knife in Neil's hand, telling him to use those skills to discipline players. Neil had thrown the knife at an alarming speed into the wall. 'Why did you kill her?' Neil asked.

'I warned her,' Andrew said, 'about what would happen if I caught her raising her hand to Aaron,' 

'your brother?' Neil hummed, 'you killed her to protect him,' he mused, it wasn't as if Mary hadn't killed anyone for Neil, or Neil hadn't killed anyone for Mary. They had both killed for each other. Andrew knew how to pick his company that was for sure. Maybe Neil had always been (will always be) unable to distinguish right from wrong (and it was worries like that that had him straying from knives and violence) Neil was too alike to his father, he knew he should believe that he wasn't... what with his uncle telling him he was "so much like a Hatford" every time they crossed paths. 'What did it feel like?'

'Is that something _normal_ people usually ask, Abram?' Andrew cocked an eyebrow, 'how it feels to kill someone?' He mocked.

'Not how it feels to kill someone. How it feels to kill family,' Neil replied,

'like killing a stranger,' Andrew answered, 'like nothing at all,' Neil had never really had the chance when he'd kill someone to muse in how it felt to do so, Neil as too busy running, and when Mary was alive she'd stop the first chance they'd get and make sure Neil wouldn't waste time feeling guilty. Guilt got you killed. 'Is the rabbit trying to decide whether or not he wants to put daddy down?'

'Ouch, the rudeness is really burning a hole into my heart,' Neil snorted, 'if I could kill him, do you really think I'd still be the rabbit? Tell me honestly Andrew, do I look like someone who would kill another person?' Neil leaned forward and stared into Andrew's eyes, just for once he wanted to see someone look unsettled by his eyes, all Neil did was worry that people were unsettled by his eyes, but he knew it was paranoia...so he wanted it not to be, but predictably Andrew's face didn't change.

'Yes,' Andrew answered, 'have you killed anyone?' Neil paused and then sighed and then craved the deep aroma of smoke.

'Yes,' Neil admitted, Andrew didn't look shocked. 'Scared yet?' He joked weakly, 'I think I'm beating you in the score of body counts, I'm afraid.'

'Interesting. I'm done for today,' Andrew turned his head, and at one point one of them would leave but neither of them did. '70%' he said, Neil frowned in confusion, 'it's how often I think about killing you, 70 percent of the time,' Neil smiled and ran his hand up and down the bumpy, cold, wall. 

'What about the other 30?' Neil grinned, Andrew didn't respond. 

*

It had been awhile since Neil had been in pain (awhile meaning just a week) which was a decade to him, today was a day for bad decisions though. Neil pressed his teeth together and tilted his head back, shit. He didn't know what had happened, one moment he was waking up for breakfast and promptly going to the bathroom to vomit and the next minute a blinding feeling ran up his spine. It was a sudden and shocking amount of anger, it burst out of his body with no warning and he'd slammed his fist as hard as he could into the mirror, he hadn't broken the mirror, but he'd bruised the shit out of his right hand.

The universe was mocking him today. Those blue eyes stared at him in the mirror, Neil was hit with a sudden thought that chilled him to the bone, even if Nathan was dead he'd chase Neil until the day Neil would die. No amount of fake lenses and hair dye would erase his father. Nothing would erase Neil's callused hands from throwing knives, the grin that mirrored his father's, the way they both got frighteningly quiet when they were furious. Even "Neil" couldn't erase "Nathaniel" 

Neil still had his old bandages, so he wrapped those as tightly as he could around his wrist up to his fingers and lay back down. He didn't know if he wanted to scream or cry and that scared him, Neil didn't do either. That wasn't Neil. Neil hadn't felt truly this unhinged since he'd cut that four from his cheek, Neil had felt off and had panicked and had nearly become unhinged a few times this week. It had to happen at some point. No wonder Proust thought he was insane.

Neil refused to be desperate, he couldn't be desperate. Desperate got you taken advantage of (desperate was what evil craved) Neil had been desperate and at the mercy of those that liked it that way, and he would not go back to that place in his mind. But fuck did he miss those stupid drugs that could have him staring at his own reflection for hours and not care. 

Neil pressed his fingers into his bruised hand as hard he could to try to knock himself out of the thought. Fuck. Neil pushed himself from the bed, eye twitching at the strain he placed on his wrist. Neil didn't ask for help, that's not who he was. And despite that he still found himself knocking on 204. 'Neil. I suppose I should have kept the sessions, you've been well enough to  _play_ lately,' Proust hummed. Neil pushed past him and plopped down heavily in the chair.

'I just can't seem to catch a break from annoying fucking pieces of shit. I absolutely hate you. You're not right,' Neil hissed.

'If there was a chance I wasn't right you wouldn't have came here to tell me so, or perhaps you're...what I call _childish_?' Proust suggested 'you like telling people they're wrong? Manipulative? Maybe even cruel,' Neil rolled his eyes, he didn't exactly see where Proust was pulling this from. 'You're going to slip up, Neil. Even people who get clean have relapses every now and then. But you in particular, a boy with so many things mentally wrong with him,' 

'I'm not going to relapse. I don't want your help, either,' Neil crossed his arms, Proust cocked an eyebrow.

'What are you doing here then if not for advice?' Proust hummed, Neil found himself going deadly quiet, 'is your addiction controlling your emotions, your decisions. You're not someone who asks for help are you? Do you understand how you're going to relapse? Someone who doesn't ask for help won't have someone to stop them from taking. You're alone,' he pointed out.

'Ive never been one to stray from temptation,' Neil answered 'my temptations. This isn't my temptation,'

'So?' Proust leaned forward, 'so you never willingly took?' He raised an eyebrow, Neil clicked his tongue and sat back, 'I thought so. I see your type every day, Neil. Often times, people take because they have nothing else to do.'

'How do I get a damn handle on this then, Doctor?' Neil snarled, 'because from where I'm sitting you're useless. And you are not keeping me for longer than I have to stay,'

'Maybe I think you're a danger to yourself, Neil,' Proust answered, 'maybe I decide after you're clean to put in for a mandatory transfer to somewhere more suited to your taste,' Neil scoffed in response, 'maybe I see that bandage on your hand. Maybe from our sessions I decide I see someone who seriously harmed themselves whilst taking? I thought perhaps you were keeping the secret of who hurt you, but I see you were embarrassed,'

'you think I did this?' Neil laughed, gesturing to his body, 

'well, I haven't see the wounds. How exactly could I dictate whether or not you did it to yourself?' Proust raised an eyebrow, Neil gritted his teeth. 'I'm the head doctor here and a psychiatrist, Neil. And I feel you're going to use the police to try to worm out of here, it won't work,' Neil snapped his eyes up and curled his hands into fists at his sides. 'You're predictable, Neil,'

'Why the hell do you have it out for me?' Neil demanded, 

'I think you came here for a fight, Neil. Is this your regular go-to thing when you're feeling too much? To harm? To abuse verbally? You're a worrying case, Neil. I'm starting to truly feel that you did indeed harm yourself. Suicide attempt?' Neil spluttered in shock and shook his head, Neil have never wanted to live  _more_. 'You fixed your own wounds, Neil. Easily. I see that as someone who fixes themselves up often. The only thing you couldn't fix was your cheek, but you still waited a few days to have it fixed up,' 

'Fuck this,' Neil stood up and shoved back his chair with a loud bang. Perhaps he had come for a fight, but he certainly wasn't going to stay long enough to actually psychically fight the doctor. 

'The session isn't over,' Proust pointed out, 'you came here for a fight, make your move,' Neil stopped in his tracks and gritted his teeth together,

'you're bluffing,' Neil said.

'I can certainly confine you to your room, a suicide-watch, let's say. Nothing in there to harm yourself and food brought to you. Of course, we wouldn't be able to allow you outside, precautionary measures, you see,' Proust shook his head, 'I think that may be best, Neil. Makes me very sad to say so, and you can't fight back because we'll keep you for even longer,'

'this is a fucking rehab centre, not a prison!' Neil burst out, 'you've got it out for me!'

'Paranoia, very troubling indeed, I only wish to help you,'

'bullshit, you keep talking about taking and trying to squeeze doubt into my mind!' Neil threw his hands up, 'you would clap in delight if I took again!'

'you're hearing malicious words when they're not at all malicious, Neil. Did you grow up in an abusive house hold? Is that where the inspiration to harm and take come from? Very-very worrying indeed,' Proust sighed. 'You pretend as if you're okay, and yet you came here specifically to fight with me. You have some issues I'd like to work with, Neil. You're not the first,' 

Neil would go insane if he was cooped up in his room for a week or two. A small space with no escape, like the nest. The very thought made the room spin and his chest tighten. 'I'll show you them, I'll show them,' Neil spat out,

'you will attend sessions, too?' Proust asked, Neil gritted his teeth and nodded, 'don't try to fight with me again, Neil. Next time I won't be so understanding,' Neil didn't say anything, he didn't move, he couldn't breathe. This felt like Riko when he used threats to control Neil, it took Riko threatening Jean to control Neil. But Proust was controlling Neil by threatening him directly, it had been a long time since that happened. The only person who could do was his father.

The withdrawal was making him irrational, susceptible. Neil locked the door and pulled down the blind, 'I hate...doing this,' Neil gritted out, he felt like if he was looking at himself he'd see a fire in his eyes and the angry line beside his nose, the same things his father got. 'I'm not happy with being put in this position,'

'at least you're thinking before you speak,' Proust pointed out, Neil breathed in deeply threw his nose  _just another week or two, don't hit him for another week or two_ he pulled his shirt off and turned his head towards the door. Proust was as deadly quiet as Neil and prodded at the hole in his shoulder and ran a hand on the iron mark. 'You managed to pull yourself out of that mood you're in, along with your agreement to attend sessions and your polite tone. I'm glad you came to fight with me, Neil, cancelling the sessions too soon was a bad move on my part,' Neil yanked his shirt back on and glanced up at the clock, the time told him the session was long over. 'Those were not self made, I'm glad you showed me that,'

'I'm not,' Neil deadpanned, ' _may I be excused?_ ' He snapped sarcastically, Proust inclined his hand to the door and Neil unlocked it with a click and walked as fast as his body could take him, slamming the door behind him, 'Un, Deux, Trois, Un, Deux, Trois, you fucking idiot!' He yelled, a few people jumped and Neil shoved past them, 'fuck you!' He said to no one. He hadn't felt rage like this since he had woken up a day after Riko's party with needle marks. Neil didn't stop stomping until he was collapsing to his knees and shaking off people trying to help him up, 'I'm fine!' He yelled, they were patients he had barely seen but they always lurked in the hallway, they let go. Neil pressed his hand against the wall and caused his sprained wrist to burn with pain. 

'What are you doing?' Andrew deadpanned, Neil whipped his head around and pushed harder, 'sit down,' he rolled his eyes, shoving on Neil's shoulder, though it was barely the suggestion of a push he fell down as if he'd been shoved hard, Andrew wasn't looking great and Neil suspected he looked just as bad. Andrew was wiping his eyes and even yawned. 'You woke me up with your stupid yelling,' 

'Proust,' Neil gritted out, 'he's pissed me off,' Andrew grabbed the collar of Neil's shirt and tugged him up and through the door beside the wall he'd been pushing against. 'He's literally out to get me,'

'You sound worried, Abram,' Andrew said. 

'I probably should be. He's seen the scars. I went in there looking for a fight and he fought back ten times harder, no normal doctor has that kind of firing ability, Andrew. I'm growing more and more suspicious of him. He tried to put me on suicide watch,' Neil ranted,

'why you?' Andrew hummed, Neil shrugged. 'Maybe you got yourself into this mess by associating with me,' 

'No,' Neil decided. Perhaps this was someone else. Perhaps this was his father or his father's men. Perhaps this was _Riko_. What would these people accomplish by pissing Neil off? Wouldn't it be better to kill him or cripple him? 'I pissed someone off. Perhaps they plan to get me locked up forever,' he whispered. 

'Torturing you by making you show your wounds?' Andrew supplied, Neil nodded. 

'I'm taking my turn. Why would Proust have it out for _you_?' Neil asked, 'I know you had a bad session with him a few days ago, but I assume he has bad sessions with everyone. He's a prick,' 

'I suspect he's been bought specifically to make my time here as terrible as possible. You're not the only one whose pissed someone off,' Andrew grinned but Neil saw that he didn't find it funny nor amusing. Riko must have bought Proust to fuck with Neil as well, but why would Riko be angry at Andrew? Was it even Riko who bought Proust or was it a different person? 'Your mind is spinning,'

'I'm wondering who bought him is all,' Neil leaned forward, 'who did you piss off? Why? How?' Andrew scowled and stepped forward until Neil was backed right into the wall,

'I'm wondering the same thing,' Andrew tore away his bandage and Neil gasped with pain and gripped his cheek, 'did a little bird fall out of the nest?' His hand was suddenly flying through his vision and tightening around Neil's throat. 'Isn't this perect timing,' he gritted out.

'Andrew,' Neil said, Andrew tightened the grip and cut off his words.

'What is it? Is the little bird trying to chirp?' Andrew scowled, Neil reached up and Andrew pinned his arms against his stomach 'no touching, little bird.' Neil threw up his leg and Andrew twisted his body to avoid his knee, and weakened the grip on his throat.

'I'm not bought,' Neil gasped out, 'whose out to get you?' Andrew's eyes darkened, he didn't tighten the grip again, he just stood. 'Is it the same person out to get me?' Andrew stepped back and rubbed his hand up and down his forearm 'Riko?' He whispered, Andrew glared at him and inclined his head down slightly - Neil took it as a yes. 'I turned him down for the Raven's, he tried to ruin my chance at court - _trying_ to do it,'

'You're a pipe dream and a distraction. Why should I waste my time allowing you to cause more problems for me?' Andrew cocked an eyebrow, 

'we'll never cross paths when we get out, anyway,' Neil answered, 'we'll stop this game right now. How does it feel being the rabbit, Andrew?' Neil grinned, Andrew pressed him back against the wall in warning. 'But tell me, Andrew. You're desperate to not have Riko's wrath upon you, why?'

'I made a deal to protect someone from Riko,' Andrew deadpanned,

'you make deals?' Neil huffed, 'I'm not surprised, really, did you make a deal to protect Aaron? Is that truly why you killed her? You warned her not to hurt him and you promised to protect him. No...Riko didn't buy me, he doesn't control me. He wants to torture me and then kill me,' Neil still couldn't believe he was alive. He also didn't know how the hell Riko found out he was in Easthaven. Perhaps he suspected Neil would check in somewhere to get clean. 'Who are you protecting?'

'So many questions, despite it not being your turn,' Andrew said. 'You're a little Moreau, sold to the Raven's, aren't you? They must be so...furious, that you're not there. Did Mommy steal you away from the Raven's?  _Cute.'_ Andrew wasn't pleased with this situation, Neil could see it in the tense roll of his shoulders and the glint in his eyes. '80%' he hissed. 

'It's not _my_ fault you spoke to the one person in here who pissed off the Moriyamas!' Neil hissed back, 'you hate me, I'm going to fuck up your deal. May we never cross paths again,'

'Kevin Day,' Andrew shrugged, Neil blinked in shock and felt his mouth part, 'you knew the person who drugged you when you were a kid, which means it was Riko. So you knew Kevin,'

'Yeah...' Neil breathed, 'you know Kevin?' He asked, suddenly it felt like every spike of anger had left his body. He found himself suddenly craving Exy and the Court, and the freeness that accompanied running and the swinging of his racquet. Perhaps Exy had actually always been his...

'wipe the fucking star-struck look off of your face,' Andrew snarled, 'if I find out that you're Riko's spy, and you intend on harming Kevin, or forcing him back to the Raven's for Riko, I will kill you. Don't think I won't, Abram,' he warned. 'Get out,'

'Kevin? You're protecting him from Riko?' Neil stepped close and Andrew shoved him back into the wall. 'I thought perhaps Riko has buried him. He talked as if Kevin were actually dead. I had been texting Kevin for awhile and then suddenly he stopped texting all-together, he told me he was scared and that he suspected Riko was going to do something really bad,'

'He was right,' Andrew shrugged, 'Riko crushed his right arm,' Neil wanted to pummel the Exy player, he wanted to hit both Kevin and Riko. Kevin for leaving his fucking phone behind in the Nest and getting Neil in this position in the first place, Neil who was a martyr and went to help Kevin and instead got drugged and tortured and threw to his father. _Kevin fucking Day_. Riko who let his jealousy and pride fuck up Neil and Kevin and Jean immensely. Maybe Andrew should be worried, Neil wanted to beat the shit out of Kevin Day. 

'It makes sense it would be you protecting Kevin Day,' Neil snorted, leaning heavily against the wall, 'makes sense I'd come across you, ask Kevin about _Neil_ if you believe I'm a spy,' he offered up, 'he's the reason this all happened,'

'Explain,' Andrew demanded, Neil glanced at the door, and then sat on andrew's bed,

'Kevin left the ravens without telling me, he left his phone behind. Riko got into it, tricked me into thinking it was Kevin and convinced me to meet up with him. I agreed to help him get out of the Raven's, I'm a runaway for a reason. But I went to the meeting and Riko was there instead,' Neil gripped his hands into fists and yanked at the covers on the bed 'though, I said I'd play with Exy with Riko for a week, to play for my freedom. One week, if I survived I could choose whether or not to play for the Raven's, I chose not to. I think I was in the nest longer than a week...I don't remember,'

'shouldn't the master of lying smelt that lie from a mile away. You were really stupid enough to believe him?' Andrew scoffed, 'he kept you all locked up and tortured. Why would you help Day out of the Nest?' 

'He was scared for his life, I know what it feels like. I liked Kevin as a child, and we texted frequently,' Neil shrugged.

'Pathetic, idiotic, a bad liar _and_ a martyr. You're sounding more and more annoying, 85%' Andrew deadpanned, 'I'm done with you today, junkie. You're more trouble than you're worth,'

'I know,' Neil agreed, he _really_ was. He stood up and Andrew didn't say anything more when Neil left.


	10. Mutuality

  **Sylvia Plath (I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses and my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.)**

'We're going to talk about your family today, Neil,' That was how it had been the last two sessions, not the discussion of family, but rather the  _we're going to_ never giving Neil a real choice to give his opinion on the subject they were going to talk about. Neil thought perhaps that was exactly what it was suppose to be like in therapy 'now, it's painfully obvious to me, as I am sure it is to everyone around you that you don't particularly have much of _anyone_ around you,' 

'Youre allowed to make your theories,' Neil replied, had he been talking to Andrew he might have his legs tucked up from the floor but he kept them firmly planted there, Proust made him want to run, made him want to watch every exit. If Neil had a fine father or was  _sure_ he was dead  _along with all of his men_ then Neil would still have his feet on the ground. 'Why does it matter?'

'In order to have a speedy recovery and a recovery that stays just that, a recovery, and not a repeat of the past, it is good to have a support system behind you,' Proust hummed, Neil raised an eyebrow slowly,

'I didn't know family had to be that support system,' Neil muttered,

'Oh? I'm excited to hear this, Neil, truly. Tell me about your friends, do they know you're here? I suppose they'll be picking you up?' Proust smiled, it was a sweet smile trying to disguise itself as kindness, when in all truth it was bitter and mocking. 

'Seems a bit one-sided, these sessions. I can't help but think in order to get better I'd have to completely trust you, I can't see myself doing that if you're lying to me, Doctor. I feel like you'd be equally offended if I was to lie to you, no?' Neil matched his smile. Proust hummed again and tapped the tip of his pen to his notepad. He hadn't written anything of yet. Neil couldn't wait to discover what Proust would write, would it be Neil's weaknesses? Secrets?  _Desires._ 'Mock me, if you're going to mock me. I won't get offended,' 

'You remind me of  _all_ of my patients, Neil. Both patients in rehab and just people with problems that stem mentally. I get the feeling you're a little  _too_ honest, just not about yourself...something that you don't do well, it's obviously a skill you learned from someone else as you've never properly developed this skill on your own,' Proust said,

'Speculation, speculation. Is that all you can do, just, blah-blah-blah,' Neil mumbled, 'I can't take you seriously or respect you when I tell you... you can stop lying and you do it again, stop pretending like you care at all about anything,' Neil complained,

'That's troubling, Neil. Do you not think it possible that people can  _care_ about things?' Proust frowned, and god, he spoke softer - too - like Neil was glass who'd break if he spoke any louder, like Neil would consider ending his life if Proust didn't whisper. 

'I'm a fucking-' Neil gritted his teeth and leaned his head back,  _I'm an Exy player._ But he didn't say that, he didn't want to give Proust the satisfaction of telling him something intimate about himself (even if Proust knew details about Neil) as Neil bet he  _probably_ did. If Riko  _was_ behind this and was paying off Proust to make his life (as he was with Andrew's life) living hell then Neil didn't doubt Proust knew intimate things. He still didn't want to give him the satisfaction. 'I have ambitions,' Neil said, 'I care about things,'

'just not people?' Proust frowned, 'it can be dangerous putting ones life in the hands of  _ambitions_ don't you know that if it doesn't work out, you could spiral, lose yourself and all will?' He asked, Neil didn't say anything. 'You don't have friends,'

'I never said that,' Neil shrugged, no. He really didn't have friends. Neil had liked Coach Hernandez, who had allowed Neil to sleep in the locker room because he suspected he was being hurt at home. But his old Coach wouldn't be picking him up in a few weeks time. 'Besides, even if my ambitions were to...not work out, well, I'm sure I'd meet plenty of people during that,'

'Oh, apologies Neil. If you don't mind me saying, well, you have the charm to make some derail sometimes. This session is meant to be about family, I do hope you forgot that rather than...well, attempting to derail,' Proust beamed, Neil hummed mockingly. 'Now, parents?' He asked. Neil didn't answer. 'That wasn't a rhetorical question,'

'Yes, I _was_ birthed. Not made in a tube,' Neil replied tensely. 'I was close with both of them,'

'Is that  _true,_ Neil?' Proust asked, as if he'd caught the lie instantly, or he already knew. But if this was Riko, how much could he possibly know about Neil? He'd have to get the information himself, he wouldn't ask any other Moriyama for that information. 

'Yes,' Neil answered, 'I've been told I'm quite similar to my parents, a child can't be similar to their parents without being close to their parents,' Neil wondered if he could scare Proust enough to back off, how much did Riko pay him? Surely Riko would be smart enough to pay a shit load of cash to make someone sit down with The Butcher Of Baltimore's kid and  _tease_ him. 

'Mh, that's good to know. If not a parent, then who else made those?' Proust gestured with the tip of his pen to Neil's stomach, 

'I get myself into situations quite a lot. I'm sure you've noticed the attitude problem, comes from my parents,' Neil shrugged, 'I just can't help but to talk back, or sometimes people just don't like that I'm analysing them right back,' he didn't break eye contact with Proust, he wouldn't. 

'Well, those certainly look like wounds made from passion, from anger. They all look the same just in different sizes and some older than others,' Proust pointed out,

'they're not all from the same person,' this time the words had absolutely no lie in them, 'So you figure wrong,' Neil replied, '

'Ah,' Proust begin to write, he wrote  _attitude_ and circled it a few times. 'It'll be beneficial then, for us to work on your attitude so that you avoid such situations, I can't help but think perhaps the wounds drew you to the drugs in the first place, hm? You really didn't want to show them, you won't shower with anyone else despite there being stalls-' Proust paused to write  _scars_ and circled it 'the attitude played a role in those wounds being created. Perhaps you also recognise some form of your fault in this,'

'my fault,' Neil said, 'you don't even know how I got a single scar on my body or the circumstances and somehow it's just automatically my fault?' He smiled, he allowed just this once to smile like The Butcher, to try and create some sort of tension or fear in the room. 'Perhaps if I fought back harder, you've given me something to think about, Doctor. I will, indeed,  _fight back harder next time,'_

'So, where were your parents when you were not fighting back hard enough?' Proust asked, Neil grinned and leaned back. He could almost imagine what it would be like being on actual drugs right now, he'd feel like the ceiling was coming down or he was just floating up to it, he'd be grinning because he found everything funny or weird rather than everything shit and threatening. 

'Well, I'm an adult now,' Neil answered, 'I fend for myself. My father is...travelling...I suppose you could say. No doubt he'll probably be going back home at some point, maybe he'll even come here. Well, not to the rehab centre, but certainly come around, he likes to surprise me,' he beamed. 'My parents have taught me everything I know,'

'and what you know are your ambitions?' Proust asked,

'No, I've chosen my path,' Neil shook his head, 'was this an insightful session?'

'somewhat,' Proust replied, he'd have to dig for more if he was hoping on keeping Neil here, he couldn't keep him here to give him therapy on support systems. That could be over and done with in a session, one pamphlet about meetings and a stern talk about finding himself some friends. 'Until tomorrow, Mr. Josten,'

'Until tomorrow, Proust,' Neil replied. 

Neil hadn't heard from Andrew in two days, you'd think it would be easy to keep track of someone in such a small place like this one, but Andrew had done well at completely avoiding Neil. Neil suspected he'd find Andrew in his room but didn't dare go in there. Andrew was right, even Neil knew their little truth-game was built on the curiousity Andrew felt about Neil's wounds and Neil's boredom and craving to fill his time with anything but thoughts. 

It was a rocky foundation, no friendship by any means, it was nothing. 'No, I don't think this is much to worry about, Neil,' a nurse was awkwardly hovering and Neil attempted to turn a picture he was drawing into  _something_ rather than just blobs of colour and lines like a toddlers drawing. Neil hadn't drawn much as a child, he once drew a picture of someone covered in blood and missing an arm and Mary had taken all forms of drawing-tools and paper away from him.

She made the argument that he could draw something that incriminates his father (secretly Neil suspected she didn't want her son to think about those bodies in such detail - to draw and map out their final moments) Neil attempted to draw the most innocent thing he could muster up, a flower. 'Mhm, so what is it?' Neil asked,

'the blood is coming from the excessive coughing and vomiting. I'll have someone make you a warm drink, rest your throat. Trying to hold back the coughs and vomits can't help, either, Neil,' Neil just hummed in response and drew shaky lines,

'it's suppose to be a tulip. It looks like a rose,' Neil replied, 'I don't like drawing,' the nurse nodded (like she cared) and continued to dab at his mouth, and dip it into a small bucket of water to get rid of the red stain. 

'You need to drink more, Neil. Not too many nurses are perceptive, much to your advantage. But I certainly am, you will get very unwell if you do not hydrate and rest your body, and accept help. These are all things to consider and possibly discuss with whoever is running your sessions, your disregard for your own health,' Neil tensed up.

'Its not that,' Neil argued, 'Its...I've been...busy, distracted,' he added on. The nurse raised her eyebrows and Neil gripped the pen harder, 'I apologise, I'm quite an enthusiast for athletics, I worry about not staying in shape,' well that was pretty true, anyway, 'and I've been accepting help, but from people here - and I've accepted help from Annie a few times. I don't disregard my own health, I just tend to be distracted,'

'well, see nothing distracts you any further from impeding your recovery. And remember you come first before anyone else, so slow down on the friendships Mr. Josten. You, before anyone else, alright?' She said. Neil nodded.

'Me before anyone else,' he agreed, 'you won't see me without a bottle of water in my hands,' she nodded and dipped the rag back into the bucket. He was not going to let her give Proust a life-line - a way to say  _see, everybody? The kid is a danger to himself!_ No way. 'I think I'm done,' he reassured. She took a moment to assess his face and stare at the back of his throat. 

'I'll leave the bucket, try not to vomit in it,' she draped the cloth over the side of the bucket and placed it in the corner,

'Thank you,' Neil mumbled, at least people weren't watching anymore. They probably had been thinking he was dying a few minutes ago when he coughed up a little blood. No, Neil would probably die by something big knowing him, if not his father then maybe the end of the world would take him, or maybe something mundane would truly take him.

Neil thought of it weird, and he wasn't suppose to think it weird, but he thought dying a normal death was actually quite abnormal. Like growing old or getting sick wasn't (and had never been) an option. 'Move. _Now_ ,' Neil looked up and waited half a minute before he shuffled directly into the corner, and Andrew sat beside him, 

'Who're you?' Joked Neil. Andrew didn't say anything, he rolled his fingers and crossed and uncrossed them. Fidgeted. That was all he offered up, he let Andrew sit in silence and watch Neil draw, though Neil was god-awful af drawing Andrew seemed transfixed by the swirling movements of Neil's hand. 'What should I draw?' He was done with attempting flowers.

'Whatever you're most afraid of,' Andrew replied, the answer was cold and almost ghostly - his voice held no semblance of a person, just a shell. 

'I don't even know whose turn it is technically. But consider this us starting over,' Neil huffed, he began the c-shape toward the edge of the paper, Andrew sat with both hands on his knees, his knees that were pressed against his chest. Andrew would have had to tilt his head back slightly for Neil to see his face because his hood was tugged up.

'There is no "us" or "this",' drawled Andrew. 'You're nothing to me, you're like a hookup at a shit party, something to use and dump,' Neil didn't stutter in the drawing or show much of any reaction, he just wondered about Andrew's attitude and payed attention to detail in what he drew. 

'Its your default to push people away isn't it. Is it for lack of trust or is it to protect them? Does it depend on the person I wonder? The situation? Or do you not even get close enough to the person to not trust them. It's always protect with you,' Neil pointed out, 'do you distrust me, or is something else going on?'

'Perceptive, yet stupid,' Andrew said. 'Shhhh, Abram,' he deadpanned. Neil didn't care, acting violent or nasty wouldn't push him away, acting crazy and unpredictable wouldn't push him away. It only made him more interested, which was already a bad thing. Andrew wanted Neil to stop being interesting, Neil didn't want Andrew to become interesting enough. Neil refused to drag Andrew into his mess with his father, Andrew was innocent in this (a word Neil found didn't particularly suit Andrew) but was true none-the-less. 'Proust?'

'Being annoying per usual,' Neil sighed, he slowly ran the pen up the page and glanced at Andrew, 'wants to work on my attitude problem. How easy would you say it is to scare Proust?'

'If I can't do it, you can't,' Andrew replied, Neil met his eyes. 'I wouldn't anger him in your weakest of days,' what the hell did that mean? They were going through withdrawal, every day was a weak day. 'What is that?' Andrew raised up on his knees enough to peer around Neil's arm.

'A knife,' Neil answered. 'My red pen ran out, so it's a clean one,' sharp, and detailed and shaded. And good. His first okay drawing, his first drawing when you could make out what the actual drawing was. And it was a knife. Neil moved his hand to the other side of the paper and began to sketch something square 'I never understood his fascination with knives,' Neil talked about Nathan but Andrew probably only heard Riko.

'With an attitude like yours I'm sure you got punished often,' Andrew said.

'I did, actually,' Neil nodded, 'I got hurt a lot and then he started bringing in other people because I just couldn't stop,' he smiled, 'he pissed me off too much,' after the drug incident Neil couldn't find it in himself to care for anybody else at all (when previously he would have) 'I was marked for perfect court,'

'No. I don't allow hand-outs,' Andrew was referring to Neil telling him truth's outside of the game. 'Ask me a question, then I might wonder what happened to the number,' Neil nodded slowly,

'How did you piss off Riko?' Neil asked,

'the deal with Kevin. I protect Kevin from Riko, stop him going back to the nest. He is trying to keep his end of the deal. Riko doesn't like Kevin away from his little pack of sheep,' Andrew answered. 'The number,'

'You must be dangerous, for Riko to hesitate on stepping on your toes,' Neil huffed, 'I hated Riko before I knew him. As kids he was annoying, insane, but bearable. When Kevin texted I knew something was amiss with Riko, and I saw as much when he arrived with a Jean who was dealing with hefty bruising badly hidden behind makeup. Riko was unable to convince me to be a sheep. That's when the drugging started. After awhile he dumped me somewhere and when I came to I walked back to this shitty building I was living at. He must have tattooed that number into my cheek when I was out cold. I had already told him several times I wouldn't be a raven. When I saw that number...' he trailed off.

'You took it off,' Andrew finished,

'Well, I cut it off. Someone else burned the cuts against my will,' Neil added on. Andrew curled his sleeve up for a moment and Neil caught his eye, and caught the scars on Andrew's wrist, Andrew pulled the sleeve back down. A deliberate truth-for-truth. Neil slid over the paper, a tulip, a knife and a crudely drawn picture of a building with a little stick man on top. 'Id crumple the paper before we get kept in for two extra weeks,' 

'When this is over I will blink and you will be gone,' Andrew said, like it was final. 

'You want me to be a pipe dream,' Neil took the paper and crumpled it in his hands and dipped it into the bucket of water 'I'm nothing, but the one thing I am is real. What exactly do you want, Andrew?'

'Nothing,' Andrew answered, Neil nodded and tossed the soggy paper as hard as he could over the wall, 

'We'll sit and be nothing for a couple weeks, then you can be all you want,' Neil shrugged, 'I don't do well with others. I don't even swing in any direction, no friends. Just Exy,' he smiled.

'How pathetic and lonely,' Andrew mocked, 'Even Kevin fucks something else apart from his racquet,' Kevin being in a relationship? Or anything at all, even just one night stands? That was a weird thought. Neil didn't think it possible Kevin could focus on anything but Exy. 

'I've never been allowed to swing. There's something interesting for you to dwell over and ask about,' Neil smiled wider, 'does the pipe dream interest you enough to stick around?'

'I hate you ' Andrew said, 'you're a waste of space and I already want to encreasd the percentage of hatered I have of you. I'm done playing for today,' he may have turned his head away and kept up the silence between them, but he didn't leave. This didn't feel like much of anything, barely any kind of friendship, they were mutuals; They mutually agreed on their curiosity toward one another, their desire to escape the reality of withdrawal and annoying doctors and whining patients who played the victim card.

It was just two monsters sitting side by side and grinning at each other's demons.


	11. Things That Go Bump In The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for some not-so pleasant talking towards the end (and some major fuckery)

  **Margaret Wise Brown** **(Goodnight room, goodnight moon, goodnight cow jumping over the moon. Goodnight light, and the red balloon. Goodnight nobody. Goodnight stars, goodnight air, goodnight noises everywhere)**

Perhaps he really was dead, everything was happening so fast like stars falling at rapid speeds from the sky. Proust had written several things today (some words Neil hadn't even said) but the words were splayed out upon his dull face today. He had less fire today and his anger issues were completely controllable. Proust had circled  _nightmares_ and asked Neil if he had PTSD, Neil laughed hollow.  _Don't be ridiculous._ He'd said. Neil was just better at controlling himself some days more than others that's all it was.

_'Just fucking help me!' Neil spat, Jean sighed and from his corner in the room he read the titles of different books and held the ones he wanted that day, 'You know this is crazy, Jean. It's like I'm talking to a brick wall right now!'_

_'It's not going to work, Nathaniel. Stop trying,' Jean said. Neil yanked harder at the handcuffs and tossed his head back tiredly 'the tape will stop too bad of damage around your wrists. He worried you'd hurt yourself to make a scene and escape when I came to give you medical help,'_

_'I'm glad he knows me so -fucking!- well,' Neil hissed, 'he didn't know me well enough today, or maybe he did, and that's why he's not dead!'_

_'If you know what's good for you you'll never try and hurt him on court ever again,' Jean warned. 'I doubt I'll be seeing you for a little while. You will be in here.'_

'Feeling under the weather, Neil? I do hope you aren't feeling overwhelmed,' Proust shook his head, every ruffle of his clothing, every brush or tap of his pen and the sucking of his lips against his teeth, every noise ground upon Neil like he'd never experienced before. He couldn't deal with all the noise and the fidgeting, he needed complete and utter silence in all sound and movement or he'd freak out. 

'Twitchy,' Neil replied, and he didn't know why. Perhaps it would work in his favour to be honest? Convince Proust that Neil was warming up to him? But that was a risky game that Neil didn't know how to play. 

'Oh, its normal. You may find yourself experiencing OCD-like symptoms like the correction of misplaced objects and the desire to move around and clean. And the hatred of some noises,' Proust said, he tapped his pen again and watched Neil closely, observing him. 'Did you ever get twitchy before the drugs?' Paranoid? Yes. Twitchy...No. Neil shook his head. 'Now, on today's topic of fears, do you think personally your fears drive you to drugs?'

'No. Nothing fucking drives me to drugs,' Neil snapped, he yanked his sleeves over his hands and pulled his legs up to his chest, to hell with running...Neil couldn't bare to have his legs on the floor and his feet brush the carpet. 'Nothing at all. I never wanted to take, I still don't want to take,'

'Why do most people -you think- take drugs?' Proust asked, 'drink alcohol,'

'Someone else gets them into it, or due to peer pressure,' Neil replied instantly. 'Then they continue to take due to habit and addiction that doesn't stem from wanting to take the drugs but rather their body believing it can not survive without drugs, much as the body knows instinctively it cannot survive without oxygen,' 

'It's escapism, Neil. Escapism from their lives,' Proust pointed out, 'in some way it is never just addiction,'

'Yes. It is,' Neil deadpanned, 'Exy is my escapism. Heroin is an annoying pest such as yourself which has been thrust upon me unknowingly and unwillingly,' 

'Heroin, that was what you were taking, yes?' Proust hummed,

'I have no fucking clue, I said the first drug I could think of. Face the facts, Proust. You're wrong,' Neil mumbled, 'I'd like to stay quiet now,' he sunk down in the chair and stared at Proust's desk, certificates, statues. Normal things for an abnormal man, or perhaps he was _so_ normal that he was perfect to manipulate. 

'You're really not feeling well today, Neil. You're pale,' Neil looked up slowly and watched the desk as something slid across it and ground upon Neil's nerves 'lemon. It'll help with sickness,' Proust offered, Neil stared at the lolly and away. 'I also have water. Don't be afraid to take things, Neil. And accept gifts. It's considered quite worrisome your lack of accepting help,'

'And help helps the recovery process, blah, blah blah. I'm good,' Neil didn't take the lolly. 'I don't like sweets,' at least he wasn't lying there. Neil suddenly found himself trembling in the seat, so he squeezed his eyes shut and fought away the twitches and shudders in his body. 'I'll take a bottle of water, though,' Proust nodded and turned to use the water fountain in the corner to fill a plastic cup. 

'You seem to take withdrawal quite well, why is it you couldn't quit alone?' Proust asked, Neil shrugged. 'Avoidance of difficult subjects,' he mumbled to himself, circling the word "avoidance" 

'the body wants what it wants,' Neil replied, Proust sat forward and raised his eyebrows. It didn't matter if Proust believed him or not, Neil was done talking today. Things were starting to get...well, they were starting to get. Every time Neil tried to quit cold turkey he always went back when the nightmares would start to hit. 'Good talk,' Neil said and stood up. 

*

'Proust is beginning to get nervous,' Andrew said. Neil was propped up against the wall like a rag-doll and no doubt the nurses would have to carry him back to his room (and he didn't trust Andrew not to drop him) 'just nod if you understand,' Neil didn't think he could nod without his head exploding.

'I understand,' he said, instead. Andrew nodded. 'Nervous?' Neil asked.

'Proust thinks you're my problem. You're my nothing. It's hard to convince him of anything...but he's trying very hard to keep you away from me, that tells me someone doesn't want you to be protected,' Andrew replied, Neil scoffed. 

'I don't need protecting, I'm fine. When this is all over we will part ways and you won't see me again,' Neil shrugged, Andrew gripped his sweatshirt and yanked him back and Neil hummed in confusion, and realised he was almost on the floor but Andrew had tugged him back into a sitting position. 'This sucks,' he whispered.

'What were you on?' Andrew squinted, Neil shrugged. 'So a mixture. That will fuck your body,' he grabbed Neil's sleeve and Neil felt the wall sliding along his back and when he looked up he saw Andrew.

'You're taller than me now,' Neil huffed, amusedly. Andrew flicked his forehead and left Neil's vision, all Neil could see now was the sky above him from where he lay from the floor.

'You wouldn't sit up straight, it's like dealing with a toddler or a drunk,' Andrew grunted, 'I don't have the energy for the likes of you,' Neil jumped at the cold spreading across his head, 'it's a wet cloth you paranoid junkie,' 

'have you been through withdrawal before?' Neil mumbled, 

'even idiots like you know to put cold cloths on your head,' Andrew deadpanned, 'I was legally obligated to take my medication at all times no matter what. It doesn't mean that I actually did at all times,' Neil huffed out a laugh, 'I took care of a junkie,'

'that sounded like more than one truth,' Neil pointed out, he couldn't see Andrew's reaction but he felt his foot nudging into his side in warning. 'How did she do it...' he whispered, he could feel Andrew stilling at his side, 'ignore me, my brain to mouth filter isn't working,'

'I'd watch that filter, if you even have one, around Proust,' Andrew warned. 'What?' He snapped, Neil turned his head and glanced up at Andrew, above him was all white fog. Neil felt both cold and hot at the same time, his skin prickled with goosebumps and glistened with sweat. He didn't want to have no control over both his body and brain, his brain had always been _his_. 

'Nothing,' Neil turned his head back. What he wanted to ask, he didn't want to ask Andrew. Andrew didn't know, but Mary did. How could she do it? Carry a scarred up toddler with flicks of red hair and bright blue eyes. How could she scrub away his red hair when he was 10. How could she possibly stand the sight of Nathaniel who was just a shorter version of Nathan. Mary had given her life for Neil. He had to make sure he would live it, not just survive, but really make a go of living; Neil had to stay away from Riko if he wanted to live, he had to stay away from drugs. It was easier said than done. 

'Wipe that look off your face,' Andrew deadpanned. Neil didn't know exactly what look that was but he tried anyway, 'starting to miss being a junkie?'

'missing a lot,' Neil admitted, 'missing drugs the least,' he added on. 

'You can lie to whoever you want, it doesn't work on me,' Andrew cocked an eyebrow, 'you're missing it. I know how this plays out, when does the begging start so I can know when to leave your pathetic body of a sack on the floor ' 

'you're one to talk, Andrew,' Neil snorted, 'when was the first time I talked to you? You were curled up in the corner on the cold floor asking about Proust?' Andrew nudged his side, hard. 'Feel free to knock me out every time a beg is about to leave my lips,' Neil would have been happy to knock himself out or gotten someone else to do it (if Proust wouldn't use that as a way to keep him here) 'you've never taken proper drugs,'

'No shit,' Andrew sneered.

'You know what the best part of taking drugs is?' Neil breathed, Andrew leaned over and covered his mouth, and stared down at him with a passive face that somehow showed a million emotions. 

'Shut up. Get your junkie brain out of the gutter and stop being pathetic,' Andrew warned, it sounded like a warning to Neil, like Andrew would punch him if he spoke another word. 'Any begs and I'll put you down like a dog,' 

'You don't give a fuck about what happens to you, there's no _I need to survive_ you just get one moment where it doesn't matter!' Neil exclaimed into his hand 'that's why Riko will lose,' Andrew dropped his hand, 'I don't _need_ to survive anymore, I _want_ to survive,' 

'you'd be the most annoying, problematic, drunk... ever,' Andrew deadpanned, 

'I don't drink,' Neil replied,

'there's some kind of irony in the junkie not drinking alcohol,' Andrew said. 'Stop drowning on, stop yelling, and stop trying to make speeches. It doesn't work for you,' Neil rolled his eyes and slipped the cloth off of his head, 'how is it I get stuck with the likes of you?'

'The cruellest twist of fate?' Neil grinned, 'why don't they have TV here?' He wondered out loud.

'So the likes of you won't watch Exy games. Idiot, it's to make us interact with each other more. I'd rather hit myself over the head with a racquet than play scrabble,' Andrew complained, Neil found it hard to make his mind up about Andrew, he could understand him and had an understanding with him...but Neil didn't...he wasn't quite use to Andrew's personality. Sometimes he could be chatty and other times he threw out so many insults he might as well have been a Moriyama.

But he always hated Neil, no matter what. 'I'll have to track you down some day, Andrew. For a game of Exy,'

'Andrew Minyard. I dare you,' Andrew warned, 'you wouldn't get anything past me, anyway,' he pointed out, 'you're not the only one that turned down Riko Moriyama,'

'Ah. So when he's yelling "you think you're going to turn me down _as well?!"_ He was referencing you,' Neil huffed, 'perfect court. You're neither perfect nor a lover of the court. You'd be the first blond Court player, though,' 

'Yes, yellow and red. Perfect colour combination. I don't do cults, I fucking hate birds, and every time Riko opened his mouth his annoying voice sent me into a dazed coma,' Andrew mocked, 

'I responded to a lot of his questions in different languages at first, I've never seen someone go so red so quickly. It was like he was being choked, people were constantly betting on whether or not I was going to _mysteriously decide to live in the desert,_ ' Neil smiled, 'you can't help but become ten times more irritating when he talks,' 

'Speak for yourself, and you wounded his pride, a man like that who spends the majority of his time in front of a mirror jerking it hated that you refused to like and respect him,' Andrew shrugged, Neil laughed and it almost scared him how loud and obnoxiously loud the laugh was. 

'I've never fully been through withdrawal but there were these moments...' Neil was cut off by Andrew's hand over his mouth, 'right, no giving away free truth's. What do you do to stop fear from ruling you?'

'Let it rule you, except in the moments where it's important it doesn't. Now wipe that look off your face, Josten,' Andrew deadpanned, he leaned down and Neil stared up at Andrew's upside down glaring eyes. 'I'm not you're answer. You're nothing to me. I'm not your psychiatrist, your _friend,'_ he mocked. 

'All you're good at is pushing people away, I get it,' Neil nodded, 

'I might come back the day you're released and stab you,' Andrew warned, 'kill you off for good,'

'you could try. I'd stab you right back,' Neil challenged, 'Proust knows me too well, Minyard. He knows I have got nothing but childish dreams keeping my head afloat, he's going to come at us harder and we both can't survive it,' Andrew scoffed. Had Neil still been the previous persona's throughout his past, the Alex's, the Stefen's, perhaps he would have tied cement blocks to Andrew's ankles and let him drown to save himself. He wasn't interested in stabbing people in their backs anymore...Neil had never liked knives, anyway. 'If all goes according to plan I'll leave with my life. But considering Proust told me what my plan was...'

'Two steps ahead of you, sloppy work, Abram. Just because he knows your plan doesn't mean he knows a way to combat it now shut your paranoid brain off,' Andrew said, 'I have a headache from you,' Neil huffed,

'Well, go off to bed, or lie down here,' Neil answered, Neil was going to lie here under the fog and think about how much he hates Kevin a day at the very moment, he was petty enough to take the hate to his grave so he doubted he'd ever stop hating Kevin. 'I was convinced Riko had actually buried day, I can't believe he's alive,' Neil thinks perhaps he shouldn't have fought Riko so hard if he was scared that he'd killed Kevin, but he had his father's temper. Unlike Riko, who did definitely not have his father's calm. Neil thought Riko stupid. He always wanted to win his father's affections but Neil was smarter. His father hurt people and Neil knew to back off, and he was happy when his father couldn't make time for him, Riko on the other hand...

'Fuck sake,' Andrew swore, Neil blinked and turned his head, Andrew was looking at him. 'I can't be bothered with you, I don't want kids therefore I don't want to fucking babysit you,' he stood up and disappeared inside. Neil breathed in and turned back his eyes to the foggy sky. His eyes felt damp, but that couldn't be right, because Neil hadn't cried since...well, probably since birth. He swiped a hand under us eyes anyway to check, and there _were_ damp. His fucking body betrayed him. Neil felt betrayed. He used the cloth that was on his head to wipe his face and he awarded himself the pleasure of enjoying being alone just for a moment. 'Get the fuck up,'

'Andrew, returned already?' Neil mumbled, 'you just can't stay away-' he grunted when Andrew gripped his collar and yanked him up to his feet. 'So, how do I convince Proust that Riko is getting what he wants when he isn't?'

'You want him to back off and give you wiggle room but he will hit harder if he thinks it's working,' Andrew replied, 'plan doesn't change. Make a deal with me,'

'more deals?' Neil cracked a smile, 'I'm good,' Andrew raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. 'Where are we going?'

'your room. Where you can scream for your toys and shit yourself like the baby you are,' Andrew Minyard, what a _charmer_. 'I will protect you, from Proust, from Moriyama, from everything,' Andrew said, 'and you give me something back,' Andrew pushed open Neil's room and shoved him in, Neil didn't even _want_ to know how Andrew could find his room. Neil stumbled backwards and collapsed onto his bed with a groan. 'Kevin Day,'

'unless you finish that with _kill him_ I'm not interested,' Neil pointed out, 'Kevin got me into this mess, he did this to me. Because he's a coward, he didn't ask for help and he definitely didn't offer me help, I won't offer him help _again,_ ' Neil had always felt like Kevin looked at him and saw a Butcher, like he was afraid. Neil was going to get him out of the Nest, 'and if you're asking me to give you Kevin, I have some bad news for you...'

'the only thing you've ever been right about is that Kevin Day is a coward, trying to fix his cowardly lion mindset is easier said than done. He also loves allowing guilt to swallow him whole, when Riko comes for him and he _will_ be coming for him...Kevin will go with him, especially when he finds out about Riko's little...summer project,' Andrew cocked an eyebrow,

'Oh? I'm the summer project? It was more a _winter_ project. What do you want me to do about it? Hold his hand and tell him _no Kevin it's okay, I understand that you left your phone because you're a coward. No it's totally fine that he nearly got me **fucking killed!** ' _Neil yelled, 'that was the last time, the last fucking time I will ever agree to help him. He got me tortured, he got me drugged, he got me burned with a dashboard lighter, I had to pull strings like you will never know to get out of the shit that he fucking shovelled on top of me. He asked me to help him,' Neil was going to betray his Uncle, and fuck with the Moriyamas for Kevin Day. 'And what? Where did he go. Andrew? To join some other fucking Exy team without sparing a single moment to wonder if maybe Riko's family that were _looking for me_ would perhaps note that Kevin was texting an unknown number with a name that doesn't _god damn exist,_ you could offer me whatever you wanted, I will not help him,'

'Done with the temper tantrum?' Andrew mocked, 'he'll stay if you ask him to, if you join the Exy team to play with him. Now breathe and try to calm down your pregnant woman hormones for a second,' Neil breathed in deeply and clenched his hands into fists, 'what did you think you were going to do when you leave this place?' He scoffed, 'USC? Singing kumbaya around a fire? You think you'll beat the Raven's playing with USC?'

'You think I'll beat them playing with a team I don't even know?' Neil laughed, 'you're all pathetic,'

'careful Abram, I can hear Moriyama in your tone,' Andrew warned, Neil sneered up at him and shook his head, 'fine. I'll keep you clean,'

'desperate,' Neil laughed, 'you're so desperate,' perhaps this wasn't funny, no, Neil was losing his goddamn mind, no, he was becoming hysterical, 'fucking desperation, I'm the pathetic one? What's he promised you? and has anybody actually ever given you anything that you've said they would?' At the look on Andrew's face, that was a clear _no_ 'you think _he_ will give you anything he's promised you? Just wait until you complete your side of the deal and he turns tail and runs,'

'I'll just have to follow him,' Andrew shrugged, Neil sat up quickly and the smile fell off of his face, 'I take my promises seriously,' 

'Andrew, you can't fucking do that,' Neil stumbled off the bed and almosted collapsed,

'Sit down,' Andrew shoved him back onto the bed and Neil grunted, 'I don't beg. I'm not desperate, and I'd be perfectly happy to _never_ see you again. You'd prevent some unnecessary work which Is always ideal as I don't particularly like having to use any energy, especially on Kevin, but it's _fine_ if I never have to see you after this,' he mocked.

'Unnecessary...Andrew, you're talking about death. I mean it, you said _no_ and if you follow Kevin to the fucking Raven's to protect him...Riko _will_ kill you. Or he'll use Kevin to control you, people you care about-' 

'you make the mistake of thinking there is anything I care about,' Andrew answered, 'do we have a deal?' 

_'You fucked up,' Jean said, Neil looked up and scowled at him hatefully, yanking on the handcuffs as hard as possible, 'what did I warn you last time you were here? I told you not to make him angry,' Neil yanked harder and kicked out, 'now he knows,'_

_'I'm not like you,' Neil spat, 'I can't stand back and let him hurt people,'_

_'and now he knows you're a martyr, that you're willing to sacrifice your mental stability and psychical body for people. He can use that, he's got you now, Nathaniel. Before he didn't have anything on you, except the knives but after awhile even those stopped making you scream. Nate, I am warning you but his eyes lit up like nothing I've ever seen today,'_

_'His eyes looked pretty fucking light to me when he was drugging me in the club bathroom. And shouldn't you be afraid for yourself, you're the one sharing a room with me,' Neil looked up at him and grinned, 'you don't deserve everything you've ever gotten, you're scared. It would be a hypocriticy of me to wish bad on you for not fighting against the people who you fear, but I am taking this karma, Jean. For every beating I took for you, when all you did in response was drug me,'_

_'I'm not to leave tonight, so tonight goes as every night does. Except you have to stay handcuffed, and no drugs,' Neil laughed in response and kicked out again, great, Jean was ignoring his words again. Blocking everything out. 'The light is staying on this time,'_

_'look on the bright side, right?' Neil joked, Jean's face didn't change, it looked darker. He walked to the other side of the room and sat on his bed, 'at least read to me. Time goes so slow when I'm not scared, and I couldn't feel less scared right now,'_

'So you want me to...what? Keep Kevin from going back to the Nest?' Neil asked, 'keep him busy with Exy, give him that fearlessness of the Raven's he so dearly needs?' Andrew nodded. 'I can't believe I'm being bullied into playing house with Kevin. I'll agree if you let me hit him once,'

*

It was well into the night, and some hours since Andrew had left the room, when Neil woke up, he was confused for a few moments. Lately he'd been so exhausted that he always slept through the night, and he'd been so tired today. Having accepted Andrew's deal if he wasn't tired before that he was definitely tired after. _'Really?'_ Neil jumped, letting out a loud gasp and he sat up quickly. _'Playing house with Andrew Minyard, more like,'_ god Neil was so hot, it felt like the room was getting smaller and less air was able to escape, like a coffin. 

'This...' Neil whispered, he slowly slid back until his back and head bumped against the wall and bed frame. 'This isn't real,' no...this couldn't be Nathan standing at the bottom of the bed, staring down at him with his silver knives. He would have sent Lola or Romero or both of them if he found a way in. 

' _How crazy are you, if I'm not real?'_ Nathan grinned, ' _you trust this Minyard? You trust him and his judgement?'_

 _'I told you, Neil. I told you not to trust anybody, you trusted Kevin and look what happened. What do you think this 5'0ft little boy is going to do? Where is your judgement?'_ Mary yelled. This wasn't like Neil, he didn't hallucinate, he could hate knives and get comfort from fire all he wanted...that was Neil, that was real. This was...not Neil. Just like crying wasn't Neil. ' _Emphasis on the wasn't,' _Mary pointed out.

'It's the drugs, it's my body,' Neil whispered, 'it's because I'm tired, I'm stressed. It's Proust, it's Kevin, it's my body,' he chanted, 'it's Andrew,'

' _Oh sure, blame the psycho,'_ Mary snorted,

 _'I for one like him,'_ Nathan beamed, ' _he's the type that doesn't kill for money or power, he's like me. Like us, JR. He does it because he likes it, it's fun, it pleasures him. That's why you like him, you know, he treats you...well...as well as a man like that can, he'll give you his little truth's and puppy eyes and he also gets you. He understands what it feels like to be completely fucking nuts!'_

 _'I wonder what a boy like that has been through,'_ Mary chimed in, _'he reminds me of when I met your father, this fiery spirit, a bad boy with a real dark side, and full of secrets. Oh yes, the secrets were the best part of it all, Abram. Andrew calls you that too, Andrew might find himself growing up to be a Butcher.'_

' _You have to wonder about Andrew. What is he, JR? You see, everything you fear has been in this room. The name of Kevin Day coming out of our lips, Andrew's name. Me and your mother. Kevin represents disappointment in your life. Mary represents loss in your life. I represent the fear. What does he represent?' Nathan cocked his head to the side, 'is it **hope**? Aren't you a  pathetic Butcher?' _

 _'Pathetic, he likes that word. Look what Exy and succumbing to your fears and losses has done, hope nearly killed you...hm...the last 700 times that you decided to have it, when are you going to realise that maybe you will never have hope and keep it?'_ Mary tutted,

' _Might need the drugs after all, son, to be able to really live with that fact. I mean, do you honestly think I'm dead? And if I am there is always bigger fish, and you're the bait. The Moriyamas, my people, the police. Andrew. Even if you free yourself of those things well...they're still up here,'_ Nathan reached out and tapped a cold finger against Neil's forehead, he jolted back and hit the wall hard. His hands were as cold as the dead's ' _maybe I **am** Death. Death in disguise. You see, JR, what you do best is panic and up and run and we'll...how is Andrew going to look after such a broken child? A child that will run straight to the drugs,' _

 _'He's right, my boy. Riko gave you a choice and you chose the wrong one. What did you do exactly, for the drugs last time? God do you even fucking remember?'_ Laughed Mary, _'you have never known what drugs are in your system, Moriyama just used whatever the fuck he could find and well...gave you it all. But what was it you'd say?'_

'Shut up,' Neil whispered, 

_'Just...give...me...' Nathan supplied,_

'Whatever you've got,' Neil finished, 'shoot me up and I'll...'

' _I don't swing but I'm sure you do,'_ Mary said, imitating Neil's voice, _'Shoot me up and I'll put my hands to use. It's why you're such a talent at Exy, but I've seen better. I told you not to play Exy, you did this to yourself...all for a sport you're not even the best player in. Was it worth it?'_

 _'_ Honestly, yes?' Neil tried, Nathan barked out a loud laugh.

 _'Even when talking to yourself, talking to the ghostly image of your cunt mother you still won't let Exy go. Funny. Predictable, but funny. The stubbornness comes from the Hatfords. But the crazy is **all me** and talking yourself out of being killed by the Moriyamas? Well I take all the credit, it was all my genes. You're so much like me, I couldn't have a better son. I'm still going to take those legs I promised I would, I'm going to let you drag yourself along the floor. Give you that taste of hope just one more time,' _Nathan shut his eyes and breathed in the pleasure of the images running in his mind. 

' _Better than burning, right, Abram? You remember the smell of the salt in the sea all mixed in with the bones in your backpack?'_ Mary asked, _'I know you do, you and I are the same. You know what this is, don't you?'_ She sat on the edge of the bed and Neil found himself neither flinching nor shying away from the image of his mother, still looking alive but not tired. With grains of sand in her hair. ' _It seemed like in the Nest every time he took you off the stuff the fears just got so much worse, attacking you at all angles... like birds. This is all of that fear manifesting, but fear can be controlled,'_

' _Shut the hell up, Mary. He was born afraid and he'll die that way. You chanted to yourself over and over JR. When the darkness was eating you up in the Nest,'_ suddenly there was no moonlight shining in from the window, but all black. ' _You begged but nobody was there, locked room,'_ Neil stumbled off of the bed, much like he had when Andrew was in his room and bolted for the door, like expected the handle pressed down but the door wouldn't open. He yanked again and the handle came clear off, leaving nothing but a small outline of a door, like it was just another wall in this cell of a room.

' _You're so afraid of the darkness, claustrophobic now. What happens when you find yourself in a court again? When you flail to the floor and start screaming because...well...the darkness is closing in even if it's daytime. The drugs could always get rid of that fear on the court when you were on them...oh...but that was the point. To give you fear and make it better with drugs, you depend on them,'_ Mary frowned, she stood and walked to him, petting his hair sympathetically. Brushing strands of red hair into his vision. 

 _'Did the tight room and darkness remind you of a coffin to much? Too close for comfort, JR?'_ Nathan laughed, _'everybody will know you're fucked, when you start screaming. And when you face off again Riko...haha...fuck this will not be one to miss. What happens when he stands in front of you all smug?'_

 _'reminding you that you danced that night in the club, you were so susceptible...loyal. The perfect treat for Riko who wanted to see a Butcher **kneel** isn't that ironic, Neil?' _Mary huffed, _'he wanted to see a monster bend to his will. You would have fucked and killed people for him if he had his way, but he still might. You're a runner, you can't face him,'_

'I'm not a Butcher,' Neil knotted his hair around his hands, 'go away. You're not real, I'm hallucinating...this isn't me,'

 _'It wasn't, you're right, but things change. You've truly fucking lost it. JR. Butcher, next minute you'll be hacking off limbs! Perhaps even Kevin's legs for running like the coward he is? Then you'll go back to the needles, it's how it always is. You see what you fear and you run like you always do, run right into hotel rooms and needles,'_ Nathan tossed up his knife and caught it, ' _what is it, JR? You're looking so pale...paler...it can't be the drugs completely,'_ Nathan grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back, Neil's legs hit the bed and he only just fell onto it, Nathan came closer and Mary watched with fire in her eyes as Nathan swung his knife down _'Are you scared of what goes bump in the night?'_

Neil's eyes shot open and a scream tore out of his throat. 


	12. Anchour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I totally spend more time reading over other chapters like "who was the last person to answer a question?")

**Margaret Atwood (This is the world, which is fuller and more difficult to learn than I have said. You are right to smudge it that way with the red and then the orange: the world burns. Once you have learned these words you will learn that there are more words than you can ever learn.)**

Neil couldn't say he felt "alive" but he felt a sense of adrenaline coursing through his veins and forcing his feet to move quicker and quicker like he'd only been off the drugs for an hour. He almost made it to the eating area before he collapsed from pure exhaustion, before all of this Neil could run miles before he'd be too tired, the idea that he no longer could was a scary one. 'I've let you panic for an hour, explain,' Neil gasped and looked up quickly from the ground he was kneeling on.

Andrew was staring down, looking slightly annoyed, but definitely unwell. He hands shook, though he hid it well. And his blond hair stuck to his forehead, like he himself had been running. 'I'm fine,' Neil replied.

'Our deal,' Andrew reminded him, 'I said I'd protect you, and that includes from yourself,' Neil deflated and leaned back until he fell back on his butt, Andrew leaned against a nearby wall and scoffed at him. 'You tell me something is wrong first. I'm the first to know, and I don't find out from gossiping people outside the bathrooms talking about the kid in 57 screaming at the top of his lungs,'

'that's dramatic,' Neil muttered, 'I just...look, I've never fully went through withdrawal but on particular days when I pissed Riko off...which is most days, he'd lock me up for a day or two. I thought perhaps I'd gotten lucky being here, within those two days I'd always hallucinationate. But I haven't yet but I think that's because in the room he'd turn off the lights, so I couldn't see what was lurking around and my mind played more tricks,'

'what did you see?' Andrew asked,

'my parents. I think that he isn't real. My father wouldn't come for me...he'd send someone else, it can't be real, I'd be injured at least,' Neil whispered, 'my mother is dead so I know for definite she wasn't real. I got woken up by hallucinations... is that even possible?'

'You're tragic,' Andrew drawled, 'hiding in the kitchen is even more tragic. You think Daddy won't find you hiding your face against a fridge? At least hide better,' Neil slid down the wall and closed his eyes tiredly. 'I don't break deals,'

'you can't fight this, especially without a weapon and whilst you're so sick,' Neil pointed out, 'we both can't fight it,'

'We're weak,' Andrew nodded, 'which is why you use every other resource to your advantage. Manipulation, lying, sweet-talk. And who knows? Maybe with a rush of adrenaline we could do things,'

'Fight club meetings start in the kitchen of all places,' Neil huffed, 'I keep wondering if Proust is right,' Andrew slid down the wall until he was almost laying down, and stared at Neil from around the corner. 'People go back to drugs when their lives are better than mine, what made me think I'd be any different? Especially when I can't hold myself up,'

'you get someone else to hold you up, it's weak, it's pathetic. But it's better than taking,' Andrew shrugged, 'let me warn you, Abram. You're only thinking this because of the withdrawal, once it's over those thoughts will pass. But if you don't get it under control, if by your release you think you'll go back at any point, no matter what happens, I will break our deal. I will hurt you, I will break our deal, and I will kick you to the side,'

Neil didn't say anything further at this point, it was clear, Andrew had a deep and intense hatred for drugs (be it from him being forced on drugs, or another reason) the drugs were out of the question, but really...couldn't the drugs technically save Neil more than Andrew ever could?

No, the drugs can save him mentally,

Andrew might be able to save him physically.

Neil looked up from the kitchen tiles when he heard something dragging and a thump that startled him immensely. 'Andrew?' Neil questioned, he slid around the corner and paused, 'shit,' he swore softly, 'Hey, Andrew?' It was normal to pass out, Neil had done so, even if it wasn't normal Neil had never died from doing so.

Neil hovered over him and yanked at his arms, trying to roll him onto his back (or at least his side) cold cloths were probably needed, water, rest and bed. But Neil couldn't even walk. After his run (no matter how short it was) he truly found himself barely able to move. He wouldn't admit it, but he felt a sharp sense of relief when Andrew moved. 'Andrew?' Neil shook his arm, Andrew was trying to do something that Neil couldn't figure out, His eyes were closed and he was trying to raise his arm that Neil was shaking.

Eventually Andrew managed to raise his arm enough to smack it into Neil's face, Neil jolted back in shock and Andrew turned his cheek into the cool kitchen tiles. 'Go away,' Andrew said, his voice was not demanding or cold, it held no emotion what-so-ever. Neil flailed his hand against the wall until he found a crevice to dig his fingers into.

He didn't say anything to Andrew, he worked on sliding up the wall and stumbling over his own feet to get out of the kitchen. He'd seen Andrew pretty low, he'd seen him emotionless... as he usually was. But that was something else. Neil stumbled and stared up at each door he heavily leaned against - looking for his own number.

He pushed open the door and closed it behind himself, leaning his forehead on the wall and pulling back. He knew he was probably going to miss dinner and he'd already missed breakfast. 'What the...' he whispered, his eyes scanned his wall and he squeezed his eyes shut. 'You were on a lot of stuff, maybe you're even a little crazy. Crazy, yeah,' he said to himself.

18,

It was his age, and it was shaped out on his wall in knives.

This had to be a crazy delusion that stemmed from his memory of Riko doing something similar to this, but it was in blood rather than knives. This...this was more terrifying. There was something annoying, and odd, and frustrating about Neil's fear of knives, despite how many knife wounds he wore on his body and how many knife wounds he saw carved into others.

Neil took ahold of the first thing on his desk, a box of tissues and threw it at the knives angrily, knocking one of the knives that now turned at a strange angle. Neil threw the next thing and the next and tore the blankets off his bed.

Then he stopped and slid down his wall. I want this he thought to himself, the idea and reality that he could have Exy, protection, be on a real team and stay clean. Hopeful, fake reality it was. But a hope and a want none-the-less.

Neil thought that maybe, just maybe, he needed an anchor. Someone or something to stop him when he needed to stop. Andrew couldn't be that in a million life times, their relationship was rocky - their attitudes clashed, Andrew was a wild fire that bit back and burned and Neil was a hurricane that moved and destroyed everything in his path.

Exy was a sore subject, his worry that he couldn't make it as a so-called "junkie" and the fear connected with Exy some days wasn't enough to completely bring him back to reality. He'd chose his mother maybe, but just because her paranoia - anger and overall personality was strong enough that she could get through anything. Neil would have been the one buried had she not been there the entire time. He lived because of pure luck - it had nothing to do with carefullness or skill.

She could be the reminder to hesitate to trust - and attack when necessary.

That left Kevin Day. To this very moment Neil had never known why he agreed to help Kevin - knowing it could endanger him.

Mary had hit and warned him not to kiss or fall for girls they're sneaky, manipulative. You can't get attached you'll get them and yourself killed...but she had never warned him about friendship, of course he just knew not to do it but somehow...somehow Neil Josten found making friendships easier than falling in love.

It would have to be Kevin, the knowledge that Kevin would be (most likely if all went according to plan) the one to reteach Neil Exy, standing by his side to best Riko at his own game. It was a thought that stopped his gasps and rocking on the floor, that stopped the flaming hot anger and fear. Riko was going to get beaten by his brother and number two, and Neil (maybe even Andrew) would help, two people that turned him down. One that belonged to him and got through his torture.

It was grounding.

You get someone to hold you up Andrew had said, and he might be right (just a little bit) but that begged the question, who held Andrew up.

*

It felt like a life-time until Neil could move, his body ached and his hands shook and twitched at his sides. Andrew hadn't answered when he knocked but he walked in anyway. 'I hallucinated earlier,' Neil said in way of greeting. Andrew grunted from below his mountain of blankets, but Neil took that as an invite to talk. 'Ask me something,'

'What did you hallucinate and why?' Andrew muttered,

'That's two questions, but you can owe me. It was knives spelling out my birthday. See, when I first turned eighteen I had been at Evermore for who knows how long, and Riko wrote my birthday in blood to freak me out,' Neil shook his head, 'I was on edge that day, thinking about who was going to come see me on my birthday. The mood swings have already started, I've been kind of off for days but I just lost it,'

'bursts of rage followed by tears. Should have done your research, Abram. Before going cold turkey,' Andrew mocked, he pushed back the blanket and Neil blinked slowly.

'You look awful,' Neil said, 'what was that in the kitchen? A lack of water. I swear you were panicking,'

'don't touch me,' Andrew answered. 'Especially when I'm unconscious. But even if I'm awake don't touch me or I'll kill you,' the threat was very real and Neil truly believed Andrew would. At the same time, he seemed too weak to really fight for himself, as was Neil.

'Ive been in hundreds of situations where I couldn't fight for myself,' somehow Neil's words just seemed to fuel Andrew's anger, make his eyes form into slits and his lips draw down in an almost sneer. Neil didn't know if Andrew hated that he understood, or if Andrew hated him for trying to understand.

'You're a therapist. Well, Abram. I feel as if I have no control in my life and I keep getting an overwhelming urge to fuck my Exy racquet,' Andrew said. Neil actually found himself laughing as he sat slowly on the edge of Andrew's bed. 'You and Kevin Day are going to annoying the shit out of me. I'll have to dig two graves,'

'You really think me and Kevin are going to meet up, be a force to reckon with?' Neil snorted, in all honestly he predicted his death being more likely. 'Giggle and gossip about Exy?'

'Yes,' Andrew rolled his eyes, 'thats the pathetic and annoying part. I should have let you go back to shooting up in alley's, but you're interesting...do you want to go back?'

'Yes,' Neil whispered, 'that's my body, not me. My head is screaming at me to find whatever I can, I want to scream and cry and I don't do those things,' he ranted. 'I don't want to run or hide, I want to hit something,' Neil could already feel the burning in his eyes and the involuntary clenching of his fists.

'I'm already bored and I hate people crying on me. Nicky does it, Kevin does it, and Aaron did it,' Andrew sneered, 'do not cry on me, I don't care,' he warned.

'Nicky, your cousin. Kevin, and Aaron...your brother?' Neil listed off. 'I only had my parents and uncle,'

'tragic,' Andrew replied, sarcastically. 'If you're staying, sit on the floor,' Andrew seemed like he hated Neil more when Neil sat on the floor without question, like he understood Andrew didn't want him so close and within reach. It just made him seem angrier and more green. 'Whose seen the scars?'

'that's one of your two questions? Interestingly enough...my father, everyone at the nest and Proust. My mother never actually saw them, she didn't want to,' he shrugged,

'just closing her eyes and pretending her child wasn't being tortured. At what age was your first scar?' Andrew asked.

'I think it was when I was a year and I went into my father's study and got in the way so he pushed me over, I ended up cutting my forehead. He first cut me - not too deep when I was three from anger. But truly injured me when I was five and he hit me with an iron,' Neil breathed in and took in the room, it looked unlived in, blindimgly white and smelling like fresh sheets.

'Shit mother,' regarded Andrew. It was an off-hand comment, as if he were mentioning the sky.

'I wouldn't be alive without her,' Neil muttered. She hate who Neil had become, how dangerous and reckless he was. How weak.

But she hated Exy, so she couldn't be completely right, and Neil couldn't be completely wrong.


	13. Play My Game

**Christina Rossetti** **(I**   **go home alone to my bed, Dug deep at the foot and deep at the head, Roofed in with a load of lead, Warm enough for the forgotten dead)**  

'You have a shit temper,' Andrew commented upon seeing Neil, Neil  _knew_ having been raised for a good ten years under the roof of The Butcher would mean he'd pick up a few things from his father subconsciously, so Neil knew his face probably looked dangerous when he was angry. If Andrew knew Neil and his father well he would know that there were two types of anger. 

The anger that came accompanied with the chilling grin Nathan was known for (outside of being known as The Butcher first and foremost) and the anger that was even more dangerous, the anger that came accompanied with pure silence and a lack of any emotion. 'That shit head,' Neil hissed, 'he's making me talk in group therapy now. You shouldn't have mentioned Riko's involvement with Proust because _fuck_ does it make it hard to hold back,'

'If you had a brain you might wonder if he's purposely making you angry,' Andrew pointed out, 'I'll put it in terms you can understand, Riko plays Exy which means he knows how to read people and plan ahead what they might do,' maybe he was right, maybe Proust really was trying to make Neil act out like his father.

'He really doesn't back down does he?' Neil snapped, he pushed open the door to group therapy, a bright and colourful door that made Neil more uneasy than just plain white, he heard Andrew tell him to go away as he slouched his way to the seat he'd claimed, not far from Neil's seat at all was Proust. Proust never stood in on sessions, but Neil figured he wanted to be there to...he didn't know, tease Neil? Confirm he's talking? Whatever it was Neil's vision went blurry for a second when he saw him. 

'Breathe, Junkie,' Andrew said from his seat, it was pretty far but nobody had turned up yet to fill the seats between them. Neil looked at Andrew whose eyes were facing forward, it was either Andrew being Andrew or Andrew being cautious of Proust. 

'Okay to stay off today we're going to discuss support and triggers,' Neil gritted his teeth and slouched down in his chair, this was better than one-on-one before, but now it seemed just as bad knowing he had to speak up. 'Neil?' The man who ran the meetings, he suddenly said his name mid-discussion and Neil had only caught the last few things a woman had said.

'Family?' Neil questioned, 'sure,'

'would you say your family is a support system, or not?' 

'More than others,' Neil drawled, lazily staring at Proust. 'My family is truthful, truth is a big thing in my family,' The only thing his Uncle, Mother and Father could agree on was that there was no point in lying to each other. 

*

'You look like you had fun today,' drawled Andrew, Neil shrugged and watched Andrew tear the rapper off a fourth chocolate and pop it into his mouth, 'you make the nurses think you like them, then suddenly they'll give you anything you want. They like to think that they themselves cured someone,'

'Andrew Minyard making friends,' Neil snorted, now that he had starting mocking and snorting he didn't want to stop. Even though he spent the majority of the group therapy snorting every time someone said something he thought reminded him of Proust and _glancing_ at him with challenge. 'You a fan of sweets?'

'Is it your turn?' Andrew hummed, 

'you know it is,' Neil deadpanned, 'its truth for truth, which means equal for equal. So if you want to be truly equal you're keeping score. I cannot keep trying to remember,' he massaged the sides of his head, the corner of his eyes, trying to wade away the throbbing headache. 

'Walk quicker, then,' Andrew replied, Neil squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and followed in a quick stride, 'I don't usually eat anything else apart from sugar. Do-' Andrew's speech completely cut out as Neil's vision did. 'Still alive, Junkie? Power is out,' Neil didn't respond. It was suddenly all coming back to him, but why now? Every night the lights were turned off in preparation for sleep. Maybe it was because Neil wasn't locked in his room, knowing the lights were about to turn off.

No, Neil was in the hallway with Andrew, with no warning. 

_'If you can't even make it back to the room, how do you think you can keep up playing Exy?' Jean deadpanned, it was embarrassing, that Neil was being lead back to the room by Jean because the world spun in circles, because he couldn't see which door was which and the black all around made it particularly hard. 'You played like an amateur,'_

_'Well, I couldn't see the ball!' Neil spat, he didn't know if Jean could even understand him but that's what he said in HIS mind, anyway. 'How about you ram your head into a wall and then play Exy with a concussion, okay? Or you could grow a pair, tell Riko to fuck himself, and then hope he makes you play whilst being drugged,'_

_'Nathaniel,' Riko greeted, 'don't stop the conversation just because I'm here,'_

_'great, because I won't,' Neil growled, Jean released Neil's arm and glanced at Riko._

_'You can close the door and stay,' Riko said, Jean bowed his head and shut the door, 'you must be wondering why I've decided to show up to your room,'_

_'No, because I'm not fucking stupid,' Neil replied,_

_'what was that? I can't hear you,' Riko mocked, 'cough the tongue out of your throat, then try again,' Neil tried to shake his head clear, he needed to be aware for this. 'The funniest thing was you thinking I'd honor our deal, that was funny. Now I'm bored and you played bad. Jean, you're going to stay in Kevin's bed tonight. Nathaniel, you're going to stay in here. For a day,'_

_'and miss practice?' Neil raised an eyebrow, 'doesn't that make you want to grind your teeth together?'_

_'You will play better next time, because the more practice you lose - the closer you get to being buried beside your mother, with nobody to know where you've gone,' Riko hummed, 'oh wait. You don't exist, everybody thinks the butchers son is already in a coffin with his mother. Let's see how much you want to mouth off to me when I tie you to the bed, turn off the lights, and not come back until tomorrow,'_

Neil hissed as his head whipped down and his neck protested, he was on the floor with his head between his knees and Andrew's hand on his neck. 'What happened?' Neil rasped, Andrew slowly narrowed his eyes.

'You did what you always do, be pathetic. Power went out for less than a minute before the backup generator started, you panicked none-the-less,' Andrew shrugged, 'tell me, junkie, scared of knives...'

'scared of the darkness, of small spaces and sharp objects,' Neil ranted, Neil thought maybe he was going to go crazy in here, crazy out in the real world. 'How do I live when I leave here, I don't live in the real world,'

'the real world is just that, real. You can't pathetically curl up in a corner and pretend the world isn't real,' Andrew snorted, 'the world is painfully real,'

'I know,' Neil shook his head, 'if I scream and cry maybe I'd feel better,'

'you won't,' Andrew promised. So that night Neil curled up in bed, in the darkness, waved away all feelings of anxiety and all memories, his worries. And he smacked his fists against the mattress and once he started to hit, he couldn't stop. And once a tear fell down his cheek, more followed. His skin burned and he couldn't bare to touch it, but the burning was some-what grounding.

The last time he cried was when he was 5 and it was from the agony of the iron against his skin, and the last time he _really_ screamed was when he first ever got shot and his mother dug the bullet out with a knife. And he'd never hit walls or beds or anything of the sort before.

Maybe drugs were better than this, no memories, floating in an unreal world that was good, no worries, mood calm and a lack of anger. Slowly killing him. The drugs took away the paranoia beaten into him and left him with the feeling of _wanting_ to sway. He had so much fun dancing in the clubs when he left The Ravens, drugged off his mind on dangerous concoctions and scraping his nails along shoulders. People weren't dangerous when he was drugged.

Everything was...fun.

*

'Good morning, Neil. Your face is awfully swollen,' Proust greeted, he sat once Neil did. Neil tugged one knee up, wearing a pair of baggy sweats and an equally baggy jumper that did nothing to help the heat across his body. 'How are you feeling today?'

'Fucking shit,' Neil replied, 'Lets start by being honest, Proust. It probably _is_ in my best interest to not annoy you...but I don't have the energy to think,'

'you would say you don't have the energy to think rationally? Very worrying, Neil,' Proust sighed, tapping his pen against his clip board, 'honesty? Well, you're a tough cookie,'

'Tough to mentally break? Oh, I know. Better people than you have tried, you're not going to do anything to me,' Neil laughed, shaking his head, 'don't you just want to curse me out, say my name, tell me your master plans?' He grinned, 'what else are you up to in this game of yours?'

'Lots,' Proust replied, 'as you will probably never find out. Patient confidentiality. You believe I will not have the ability to..."break you" as you say?' He hummed and tapped again and again, the tapping turned Neil's stomach and caused frustration to crawl up his spine. 

'This is sloppy, sloppy work, this is a waste of time, _the_ worst and unintelligent plan I've ever heard of-' Neil ranted, but startled when Proust grabbed his arm,

'I've been good to you,' Proust shrugged, Neil cursed and jumped back from the chair, it clattered to the ground loudly, 'what is wrong, Neil?' 

'You're totally insane,' Neil pointed out, what could he do exactly? Shout it to the world that Proust is psycho, who would believe his over-paranoid mind, and with the obvious wounds all over his body and the melted skin under his eye, essentially, Proust could do whatever he wanted. He shook his head and glanced up at the clock, and left, despite having a few minutes remaining. 

He could go to Andrew, but Neil had this covered, he always did. He headed back to his room and tore open his dresser, there was a short sleeved thinner shirt that he ripped in half and wrapped around his bleeding palm. He couldn't believe Proust had actually _cut_ him...who knew what else he was doing, what he _would_ do for some money.

Idiot. Riko would kill him - dispose - of him when Proust is done. Men like Proust were so idiotic. 

But then again, so was Neil.

And now Proust was done with pretending Neil was paranoid, maybe he wanted to get the show on the road. Neil laughed and yanked the shirt tighter around his palm, tying it off and pulling his sleeve over it. His emotions were up and down and he wondered if Andrew always felt like this.

Did Andrew have episodes behind Neil's back, did he laugh into his bed and scream and cry now that he was going through withdrawal?

Did he hide how bad it was like Neil did? 

Neil stood up from where he sat on the bed and flew out of his room quickly, barely shutting the door behind himself. Fuck, Neil felt so sick, his stomach twisted in hunger and yanked in sickness and his head pounded until his vision was going slightly fuzzy. 'Fucking hell,' he laughed, ducking his head. 

'Gotten stuck in the crazy tree?' Andrew questioned, Neil looked up from his head and brushed them against his eyes, slightly damp. Neil scowled at the betrayal of his body. 'You're laying on the floor,' Neil nodded, shut the door and eased himself onto the floor.

'Proust is done pretending,' Neil said, 'it gets dangerous now,' he held up his hand and Andrew cocked an eyebrow, 'switchblade, I think. Or a sharp nail fine, I don't know, I don't care. Bled a lot,' Andrew narrowed his eyes and lay back down. Neil spread out on the floor and breathed in deeply.

'Your mouth gets you in trouble, you have no survival instincts and you're stupid,' Andrew pointed out, Neil huffed and nodded along to the words. Andrew stretched and turned on his side, head peaking out from the bed, eyes watching Neil.

'I used to wear brown contacts,' Neil said, staring at Andrew's eyes, 'I hate blue eyes,' he admitted weakly. Andrew didn't say anything, but he did tilt his head slightly.

'Blue is my favourite,' Andrew replied.

'Well somebody likes it, at least,' Neil snorted, Andrew rolled his eyes in response and lay back down flat on his back.

'You make the mistake of thinking I like anything about you,' Andrew pointed out, Neil smiled and shook his head. 'Junkie,' Exy junkie, that's what Neil was.

'Sweet-junkie,' Neil muttered, he faintly heard Andrew threaten _something_ and then Andrew sat up and stared at Neil's sleeve, 'I'm fine,' 

'far from fine,' Andrew deadpanned, 'stop adding fuel to the fire. Work on getting clean, then getting out,' Neil didn't reply, he couldn't exactly promise he wouldn't mouth off when he _knew_ he would, 'how long?'

'maybe a week, possibly two,' Neil breathed, 'it's about to get really bad, but then I'll be on a court,'

Junkie,' sneered Andrew, 'we have group therapy,'

'fancy skipping?' Neil asked, Andrew raised an eyebrow and leaned against the wall, so Neil sat up and crossed his legs,

'they'll drag us there,' Andrew shrugged, Neil knew nobody could make Andrew Minyard do something he didn't want to. 'A week tops, I'll get out before you. Then you will certainly die,' Neil huffed and shook his head in amusement. Maybe Andrew would leave before Neil, but he knew they'd split up -somehow- anyway when Neil would use the police as an escape route. 'Don't bother me later,' 

Neil nodded. Both he and Andrew needed their space, that much was certain.  

Tomorrow he'd go to therapy again and play Proust's stupid game - a one Neil knew wouldn't be nearly as bad as The Nest.

And group therapy where he would have to speak up.

And dinner, that Neil usually spent with Andrew. It wasn't all bad. It was better than The Nest. But Neil just couldn't wait to escape and eventually keep his promise to Andrew and play Exy with Kevin. Fuck Kevin, Neil was doing this for the Exy, and maybe one day he'd fight against Riko - maybe they could even beat The Ravens one day. Neil grinned and the thought and tried to push down the frustration and anger clawing up his chest.

 _Exy_. 

And he couldn't wait to see Andrew Minyard playing in person. Andrew who would probably wind him by smacking an Exy ball into his stomach and Kevin would probably knock him over, out play him, scream at him and critique the food Neil ate and weirdly enough Neil couldn't wait for that day. For the day when he'd play his first ever -real- game, even if he doesn't play a lot.

Play his game, the thought almost made everything worth it, the withdrawal, Proust. All of it was white noise compared to Neil's roaring thoughts about Exy.


	14. The Magician

** (Robert ** **Frost) The woods are lovely, dark and deep, but I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep.**

  
'You want me to be frank with you, Neil?' Proust asked, he was wearing the same thing he wore everyday, the thing Neil noticed Proust had in common with his father was that they both had ironed, clean, perfectly pressed clothes every single day despite the lack of practicability for clean clothes, Proust didn't need to work hard on clothes when everyone he saw looked awful and they probably vomited on him (if not, he probably had pressed spare clothes just in case) and Nathan Wesninski always had pressed clean suits, Neil would know someone was about to be tortured if he saw his father pulling on waterproof clothing items on over the suit to protect it from blood.

He always ended up getting a spot on his suit anyway.

'Can you be Frank, at least you'd be someone else,' Neil snorted, Proust cocked an eyebrow and leaned forward,

'you'd know about that, wouldn't you, Neil?' Proust hummed, 'I'll be honest I've heard a lot about you. And I am sorry about your hand, I wanted to see if you'd react to blades. You and I are not enemies, Neil, in fact, we're on the same side,' Neil sighed and tipped his head back so he could watch the clock upside down, ticking by. 'My source has told me a lot about you,'

'Your source, right,' Neil replied, 'hopefully only good things,' he bit back sarcastically. Proust nodded slowly and rapped on the desk with his knuckles, Neil tipped his head back down and Proust nodded just once more.

'He's doing this for himself and playing you as he does it,' Proust pointed out. And that's how Neil learned Proust wasn't actually going to be frank and was still trying to be sickeningly sweet and deceitful. Neil caught up with Andrew once he left group therapy, Andrew was parading around with his blanket on his shoulders and seemed even less emotionive when he saw Neil.

'Proust is attempting to pit us against each other,' Neil tutted, 'I wondered if he'd try this. He's sloppy, sloppy for a man trying to convince a liar of his lies,'

'I don't go back on my deals,' Andrew replied, 'telling Proust things about you, which I am assuming is what he said, would jeopardise our deal. Not that Proust or Riko knows what the deal is, I'm guessing they think it could be either keeping you clean or keeping you safe of Proust,' which it was both.

'Well, a definite argument about how you said you're working for someone, but can't disclose the name. I won't bother with the details...it's bullshit,' Neil waved his hand, Andrew cocked his eyebrow, 'don't ask how I know. Riko? have a loyal follower who not only broke the law but got placed on medication for it? No. And if he held something against you, you're someone who looks after his things - clearly, and if he tried to hold your brother or cousin over you, for example, you'd kill him,' Neil pointed out, 'am I getting warm?'

'He might fall for it, but Riko won't. Riko will know you're smart enough to do your checks before talking with someone, you're a runner. You're not going to take any unnecessary risks that might earn you a new scar, so, convince me,' Andrew rose his head, 'if you can convince me you don't trust me, you can go along with your plan,'

'so, with your permission, you mean?' Neil huffed, 'why not just slap the symbolic handcuffs on my wrists and call it a day? If I think it'll work I'm going ahead and doing it, he'll do whatever he has to to keep me in here and I don't think he's above drugging me, if I'm honest,' he snapped.

'You are playing a game based on lies, lying is the stupidest thing to do. You have half the brain cell to follow orders don't you? If you don't do this you'll fuck yourself,' Andrew warned, 'call him out once or twice, then think about lying. We'll fabricate an argument,'

'Throw punches like old men and hope that Proust doesn't use our behaviour against us, to try and make a point that we're too unstable to let go? I can get out, you can't. You have no hook,' Neil warned, 'I don't know if I can get you out if you're labelled as unstable, or moved to a different facility. And remember, Andrew, I'm just some nameless junkie full of wounds, you're in their eyes, a criminal,'

'I made a promise get out as soon as possible, I'm intending to keep it under any means necessary. You either take a punch from me and get me out, or you take whatever Proust is going to throw at you, and you do not want that, Abram,' Andrew deadpanned, he scanned the corridor where they stopped and his wide soulless eyes ticked back and forth.

'You're giving me mixed signals, do I lie or tell the truth?' Neil asked,

'Do it is what you do best, if you want to risk it,' Andrew offered up, 'if you have a good hook, kill him if he goes near you,' Neil's first question was with what and the second one he thought was would the police excuse me for murder, I could cut a deal. They have nothing without me. But that all relied on whether or not his uncle executed him. Neil had grown so use to the idea Nathan was dead and buried that he forgot to think about the other possible outcome, it probably wasn't a 50/50 chance, they both had a different number of men and different amounts of experience, but Neil thought of it as a 50/50 chance.

Stuart had more experience in tactical kills, Nathan was just a torturer.

Nathan had more men, but he was taken off-guard by the attack (Neil remembered he had all his equipment down in the basement, ready for a slow and most painful death for Nathaniel)

'I'm going to do what I do best, pretend to be someone else, I'm going to play all the moves Riko won't expect. I'll update you,' the question was, why was Neil truly trusting Andrew? Just because he promised a bunch of things and told him truths...he had no reason to trust Andrew, so he'd stay in that mindset.

-

'Neil, have you thought more about what I've said?' Proust asked, the next day Neil was dressed as he always was, in a jumper too thick and long and much too hot for his intense sweats. He sauntered into the office, wasn't even sat down before he was met with Proust's chillingly annoying voice, not something he was particularly looking forward to, as he hadn't slept the night before.

'I have. And I don't believe you,' Neil crossed his arms, 'you're trying to pit me against him, why would you even help me in the first place?'

'I care about your recovery. And Andrew telling me private things about another patient is...disturbing, but he strikes me as a disturbing young man on many levels, as I'm sure you're aware of,' Proust hummed, 'why is it you didn't trust anyone else enough to say more than a word to them? Why Andrew?' Hook, line and sinker.

'We're...we both know what's at stake, and we're both interesting and not in the realm of normal,' Neil replied, 'I like him,' he added on, Proust leaned forward, seemingly very intrigued at the words, 'I don't have to tell you anything, Proust,'

'A friend or more? Have you had many friends and more?' Proust questioned,

'No,' Neil deadpanned, 'whether it's friend or more doesn't concern you, does it?'

'Well he's manipulating one of my patients,' Proust pointed out, then his eyes shone and he held up a folder, 'I'm not suppose to disclose things discussed in sessions, patient confidentiality, but these are things to be aware of, Neil,' he opened the blue file and licked his finger, turning the first page over. 'Witnessed his mother's death, got placed in a detention centre for vandalising police cars, nearly killed three people. Your face isn't changing so I'm sure you know these things, but how about this one. There is a boy on his Exy team,'

The mention of Exy made Neil's heart skip in a way which was both joy and fear simultaneously. 'And you're telling the truth, do you even have proof of anything?' Neil ground out, Proust smiled and cocked his head.

'It pains me to do this, but I am being completely truthful. Its hard to prove, it was covered up. Andrew forcefully drugged an EX-Addict against his will. The boy is apparently the nicest boy in the USC. Everyone in the Foxes calls Andrew a "monster" for what he did. Now, Expert-Liar, look into my eyes and ask if I'm lying,' Proust leaned so close that Neil was in reach, could be cut again but Neil didn't jerk back.

Whether it was true or not, this was the hook. Neil pushed his chair away and glanced up at the clock. 'I know Andrew, he doesn't lie. He'll tell me it's bullshit and I'll prove he's no mole,' Neil sneered, he turned tail and stumbled out of the office, slamming the door. If he did do that, Neil didn't know if he'd care or not.

Andrew must have had a reason, but Riko had his reasons, also.

Neil turned the corner and opened Andrew's door, he didn't expect to find him there but he was, he was laying on the bed upside down and bouncing a bouncy ball off the wall and promptly catching it. 'Door,' Andrew ordered, Neil shut the door with a foot and crossed his arms.

'He told me you drugged someone,' Neil said, Andrew paused in his bouncing and huffed, muttering a low predictable under his breath, 'is it bullshit?' He asked.

'No,' Andrew replied, it didn't matter whose turn it was. This had nothing to do with their truth game.

'Fuck you, Andrew. Do you have no decency?' Neil hissed, 'you're exactly like them the people I'm hiding from, I thought I could trust how upfront you were but you're just a soulless...monster,'

'You'd believe Proust first? Don't be stupid, Junkie,' Andrew sneered back, 'gullible, pathetic, Junkie. We have a deal and it's unbreakble,' he warned, Neil watched as Andrew spun around and levelled him with an intense fire in his eyes. Neil stepped forward until his legs hit the frame of the bed,

'whats stopping you from drugging me, what's the difference between that Junkie and me?' Neil challenged, his voice was ice cold and he knew his blue eyes were showing the darkness of Nathaniel. He held up his hands and raised an eyebrow, Andrew grabbed the wrists, looked up at him and placed them on his arms.

'You're looking to get killed, Neil,' Andrew hissed, he shoved him back and Neil yanked him with. 'Get the hell off me,' Neil released him, and swung open the door. 'I told you not to touch me,'

'I told you I believed in you,' Neil spat, and slammed the door.


	15. Blood Money

**Syl Cheney-Coker- (And remorse not being theirs to feel, I offer an inventory of abuse by these men, with this wretched earth on my palms, so as to remind them of our stilted growth)**

'He believed us,' Neil whispered, Andrew looked up from where he sat on the floor, back pressed against the side of Neil's bed. 

'Told you he would,' Andrew deadpanned, his thin thin hands gliding over Neil's carpet and pulling up thread. 'The probability of him following you out of the office when you storm off to talk to me was too high,' he pointed out, and true. Neil didn't know if Proust was just watching them himself or getting others to eavesdrop, but if Neil had learned anything about Proust it was that he played dirty. 'You were too dramatic, but that's not it, is it? You're use to playing pretend but some of that was real,'

'Maybe. I've never had a massive, passionate fight before. He's stupid enough not to question it, and he knows I have a bull's temper,' Neil pointed out. The only person living he'd really defied was Riko and maybe Jean a little bit, Jean didn't have it in him to start a massive fight and Riko didn't waste time with yelling.

'Why not? Your survival instincts are the worst I've seen and you constantly pick fights with people more powerful,' Andrew said, and he said it like he _himself_ didn't do those things.

'I've only really talked to a couple of people, the people I usually defy go straight to hitting rather than flat-out yelling,' Neil offered up, 'Have you ever gotten into any arguements?' And suffice to say Neil wasn't that shocked when Andrew replied 

'No.'

* * *

 Having learned a few things about Andrew's past, and some, he couldn't even lie to himself about his trust towards him. In many ways Neil trusted Andrew to keep his deal, his word seemed to mean the world to him - his word _is_  his entire world. But there was a nagging, pulling sensation, that Andrew had drugged someone, like every other time he wondered if there was a reason...it didn't seem like Andrew was the type to harm for no reason what-so-ever, even if it _seemed_ like he was doing something random, Neil knew, he knew Andrew understood it in his own mind.

Riko understood it in _his_ mind, too. 'Neil, you're a little spaced out today,' Proust said, sliding a bottle of water across his head, the very noise of the plastic, dragging on the wood, made Neil clamp his fingernails down into his own arm and squeeze his eyes shut. 'Neil,' he said again, Neil shook his head and shuddered. 'I see today is not a good day, any particular reason for that?' Neil opened his eyes.

Was there any reason today was worse than others, that he had good days at all? No. There actually wasn't. But Proust was non the wiser to that, 'it's bad,' Neil admitted, 'everything's bad,' _shut it_ he thought to himself, his slow and drawling brain made him want to word-vomit onto anyone, _take the burden from me_ he ran his hand into his hair and breathed in, 'why are some days worse than others?'

'I'm fairly sure you were on a mix of drugs, yes, but watered down drugs. They weren't that bad,' Proust answered, Neil breathed out and instantly his shoulders felt lighter, 'still terribly addictive, but leaving _some_ room, tell me Neil if someone drugged you, why watered down drugs? Weaker drugs?' He hummed, Neil didn't know.

'Perhaps they didn't want me to die,' Neil replied, 'maybe they liked to stab me with needles...who knows? I don't know,' he huffed, 'I think I'll be getting out sooner than predicted,' he mused, because this was not a mental institution, and the police would be here eventually. Neil would have to get a phone, once he could trust himself. 

'One can hope, now I believe there are things to discuss about yesterday,' Proust placed his hands on the desk and raised his eyebrows, Neil let a laugh bubble up in his throat and shook his head.

'Only took you nearly ten minutes, Proust. Fine, I had a spat, I'm sure you know what kind of person I am,' he shrugged, 'it was no big deal,' he added on, Proust hummed long and loud and scratched his nails on the desk, back and forth, thinking to himself. 'Andrew didn't appreciate the questions, didn't bother to lie,' 

'I assumed he'd tell the truth about that boy,' Proust replied, 'the monster,' Neil didn't know if that was a fair name for Andrew, Andrew was many things - messed up, messed up, messed up. He didn't have good or healthy ways to deal with things and Neil would call him a monster, if he wasn't the same. Neil had unhealthy ways of dealing with things, with people. 

'I just want to get this entire thing over with,' Neil said. 'I didn't come here to clash with people, or befriend them,' he pointed out, his addiction reminded him a fair bit of Exy.

_Neil blinked opened his eyes, he was in a shitty apartment this time, bottom floor. There was a mangled old TV in front of him, a peculiar coffee table with bite indentations on the side, and a fair amount of rats. He sat with his legs tugged up and arms wrapped around his knees, "Tête, épaules, genoux et pieds, genoux et pieds," he whispered to himself, trying to stick the French words his mother had taught him in his mind._

_There was a niggling in his head, in his hands, they twitched and his eyes kept floating to the television, who even knew if It worked? Mary much preferred a discrete newspaper, but there was something_ more  _he wanted from this, he wanted to watch an Exy game. It had always been like this, like some kind of sick addiction, where his mind was filled with barely anything that wasn't Exy, he knew his languages and how to survive...but his spare thoughts were the dangerous thoughts._

_He placed the remote on the ground and kicked it, it skidded across the bumpy wood and stopped to the side of the screen. No more distractions. His mother would beat him half to death if she knew where his eyes wandered - if she knew. If she knew. If she knew._

Why was it this institution had given him back memories he'd much rather forget? Was it the quiet and the pale walls, was it Neil dropping his own walls - no longer as on-edge as he'd always been, as his mind was much more focused on the itch of not taking, the paranoia he felt but not completely towards his father but instead towards an unnamable identity, just... _something_ in the air that scared him.

Group Therapy was almost worst. Neil didn't know if today he felt more like himself or less like himself. There was an itch in his hands but not from withdrawal but rather the itch to grab everything around him and run. He wanted to take everything from everyone's pockets and abandon Andrew - break their deal, things would work out better if he did. He couldn't rely on the blond who may have just made the deal in a cloud of hazy withdrawal, who may not even remember Neil on the other side of it, who could have lied about every single little thing he said to Neil.

And Neil told him the truth in return. It was stupid, and he had no idea what possessed him to get it all off his chest...there was a tension between them fabricated by Riko, paranoia, _anxiety,_  and it was all so _poisonous_. Andrew showed up for group therapy and slouched next to a random girl, hands tucked behind droopy sleeves, and droopy eyes to match his deflated state. Mary had been so observant when it came to crinkles and before they ran off Nathaniel could never have clothes that looked like _that_. 

Andrew looked flushed and guarded and as unwilling to socialise as Neil was. 'Neil?' He looked up and away from Andrew and every eye in the room was staring at him, and it was like he couldn't take it. He was sneering insults and throwing his hands up like he were speaking to many Riko's, he didn't know what he was saying but it looked bad by the look on their faces. Then he did know what he was saying, he was yelling about obsession and everyone being so obsessed with his wounds, he yelled about wasted potentials...and even Neil knew he was being pretty nasty.

It was why half an hour of group therapy may have been left but Neil was sitting in his room, hands folded in his lap and stomach wounds positively burning. His wounds had been burning for days beneath the bandages and went ignored by Neil. At this point he had bigger things to worry about.

Would he have to get a new identity when he got out? Probably. But his problem was Neil was now intertwined in his soul, his mother had died when he was Neil, he'd survived his father kidnapping him, the Malcolm's, he tasted fresh soil and heard Riko's taunting voice and the drugs in his system. Neil was now as inescapable as Nathaniel. 

It was all tumbling down, Neil's memory of red lights and blood and knives, Neil smelling soil and carving the number from his cheek, with no one left to stop him from mutilating himself. He wished he could do that to every part of himself, his stomach, he wish he could cut all his hair off and pluck out his eyes. The red was really showing in his hair now and it didn't help that it'd just been dyed a brighter red by Riko not long ago, now Neil's dull eyes equipped with the dark bags beneath them only served to shine the blue brighter.

He hated this place more than The Nest. He could at least do Exy and throw comments with the only punishment being pain, rather than captivity. 'Well, I know something that will cheer you right up, Neil. This is simply the first hiccup of _many_ ,' and Proust's voice leaked sugar and Neil knew he was getting a lot of money for this, maybe even protection...power. 'The boy you fell out with, the monster,' 

'What about Andrew?' Neil mumbled

'He's getting out. I'll be telling him the good news shortly, his time is up. I'm sure he's learned his lesson enough,' Proust shrugged, 'but you're never around him anymore so what would you know, hm?' He hadn't seen Andrew for a day or two, that didn't constitute as missing a lot, as not seeing Andrew. Neil hoped so, anyway.

'When?' 

'Three days. It'll be quite a wait for you, however,' Proust tutted, 'it's not me keeping you in. The other doctors think you dangerous and unstable, they fear for the outside world. They think you haven't transitioned well, that you may go off like today only much worse,'

'it isn't your concern, Doctor. You're not my therapist,' 

'See, it may be. You're a danger and not because you want to be, because when it comes down to it how much do you really know? Watered-down drugs and the ability to get out of bed in the morning. How bad isn't your withdrawal, bad enough to really cause an effect? - you having these bursts of anger and _seeing_ things because of _withdrawal_ , or because you're losing your grip on reality?'

'I'm not seeing anything,' Neil scoffed,

'tell that to someone who believes your lies. My job is looking after Junkies and Insane people - people who lie, lie to protect themselves and their dignity, and sometimes, they don't know what the truth is,' Proust leaned forward and plucked what looked like a clock hand that ticked back and forth, back and forth, with loud - ringing ticks. 

What did Proust really know? He was a scumbag that tormented him and Andrew for money. He was no better and no different from every man who showed up to Nathaniel's house in their blue suits, with their combed hair and thick grins. Meaty hands reaching out and counting their wads of money, their blood money.


	16. Infect

_** Dylan Thomas (Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight. Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, Rage, rage against the dying of the light)** _

'You're getting out and the doctors all agree that I'm mentally ill, so, your deal isn't going how you expected,' Neil and Andrew walked in strides down the hall and everyone once in a while Neil would trip, so now Andrew had told him to keep ahold - for his balance. So he gripped Andrew's arm like he was being lead,

'Is it not?' Andrew tilted his head, 'Police out of the equation?'

'No, and I may look like my father but I need to convince them I'm me,' Neil whispered back, harsh and a tad loud. 'What happens when the Police lets me go?' 

'Find your way to the Foxhole tower,' 

'The tower?' Neil breathed, sure the foxes weren't a great team but they were a _team ... Exy,_ his mind screamed the word over and over until thoughts of Andrew getting out, thoughts of the Police, and thoughts of drugs left his mind completely. Replaced by the sound of air whooshing when you throw out your stick, shoulders crunching as they mash together, and the goal buzzing a loud, obnoxious, sound. Those things may not sound good to other people but for Neil it was the sound of _life_. 'Right,'

'Are you going to run, Junkie?' Andrew asked, because for some reason at some point he began to _know_ him. 

'I hope not,' and Andrew gave Neil a look that said _you break our deal I break your face_ and he didn't even have to move his face muscles for Neil to see the words, written in his eyes and the corners of his mouth. 'I don't think so,' he corrected. Because Neil's feet ruled over his body before his brain did, he could be walking - free as a daisy, father dead, associates dead, drugs-free, and he could still jump on a random bus that would take him nowhere.

And what if Nathan wasn't dead? 

It wasn't a question Neil asked himself often because he'd panic if he'd did. He wanted to ask Andrew the question but didn't dare, he'd do something stupid most-likely - like offer protection as he has always done, just one man fighting everyone in the world and everyone around him and Neil would never understand Andrew, his bravery, he did nothing to help those that meant nothing to him and he didn't seem to give out deals like free coupons so...why had he offered Neil one?

Had Neil been _that_ interesting? -

At the moment he was but a runaway whose mind had finally cleared of its irrational haze, he had stopped his mental breakdown and had stopped his irrationality and in that remembered, realised, he had told Andrew all about himself and Andrew had done so right back...he could go anywhere with that information. 'If you run who will protect you from Riko?'

'And who looks out for you? Aaron?' Andrew snorted at that, 'Nicky? ... _Kevin?_ '

'Kevin couldn't look after a fish never mind a human,' Andrew replied, 'keep your head on and don't cause trouble, Junkie,' and he walked away, he walked away with strength in every step and despite dull eyes and emotionless features he walked with a purpose. His mind was undoubtably clear and yet he wanted to keep his deal with Neil, and Neil didn't doubt he would follow it through. 

The question was, whether Neil would follow through with his own deal...

*

They were playing questions again - hiding together, hoping to avoid Proust. Neil was thinking about his answer even if he didn't have to 'the iron scar was a spec of time where I was in the worst agony. But it stopped, and the adrenaline hit me and it felt great. The worst pain time wise was the shoulder bullet wound, i was injured for...I don't remember how long, we had to get the bullet out with a rusty knife and I got sick. Worst pain you've felt?'

'betrayl,' replied Andrew. He didn't know they were or could refer to mental pain - Neil would say the day he buried his mother. 

'Ask me a question,' Neil whispered,

'you don't swing,' it was more a statement than a question but Neil nodded anyway,

'No, I don't,' he whispered, 'you start to associate crushes with pain and the brain switches itself off. You're not going to reach for fire when it's just burned you,'

'did it ever occur to your brain - more of a pea from drugs than a real brain, that maybe that's not it,' Andrew raised an eyebrow,

'you're debating with me about sexuality. Whatever you're taking keep it away from me, I'll relapse,' Neil deadpanned, 'or maybe Proust has sent an Andrew decoy, or is this Aaron?' 

'People stare, Junkie,' 

'I've noticed,' Neil rolled his eyes - he was always perceptive to people's eyes following him. 'I don't see the appeal,' 

'I'd blow you,' and for a second Neil thinks Andrew's joking and then he remembers this is Andrew and he doesn't joke. 'In a different world,' and Neil agrees with a slow nod of his head, never this world. He doesn't actually know what he thinks of Andrew and Andrew's opinion...but he doesn't feel like running. 

'Why did you pick me to make a deal with?' 

'Charity,'

'Andrew,' Neil claws at his own hair in frustration and sits back, his back smacking against the cold wall, 'why do you trust I'll keep up my end,'

'you don't want to run or take,' he deadpanned, 'and I won't let you do it,' so it was more about Andrew trusting himself to keep Neil in check rather than Neil, and that made a lot of sense, actually. 'You look like a Junkie, Junkie,'

'I feel like a junkie,' Neil admitted, 'I think my body is relapsing because I feel really sick,' Andrew was getting out in two days, Proust was trying to convince the doctors Neil was a danger, the wounds on his stomach burned like he'd taken a hot poker to them which he would have done had he not been in rehab _should have thought that one through_ he thought to himself, the wounds on his stomach nothing more than messily sawn up patches _no disinfectant, no hot poker._

But he was sure he would have gotten sick a week ago if he was going to get an infected, and hadn't worried about it.

'Don't fall asleep on my floor, Junkie,' 

Neil didn't know he was falling asleep - he didn't know his back was hitting the floor with a soft thud as his eyes shut.


	17. Leave

** (Robert Frost)  _And were an epitaph to be my story I'd have a short one ready for my own. I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover's quarrel with the world._ **

When Neil woke the room was bright and the golden light of the sun was hitting his eyes. The second thing he noticed aside from the bright windows was the white sheets, one could mistake this as their own room but Neil had a feeling it wasn't. It smelt like his room, looked like his room, but there was a drip in his arm and an even stronger smell of medicine than he was use to. 

Neil sat up gingerly and placed a hand over his stomach as he did so, the fact that his hand met his bumpy skin and not fabric was harrowing, and it made the air in the room thicker. Now that he had to look at his stomach and couldn't avert his eyes like he usually did he realised he was stupid. Neil admitted every so often that he was stupid and this was one of those moments, his skin was raised and green and smelt something awful. 

Infected. 

'Mr. Josten, you're awake. I'm the head nurse and you've had quite the few days,' when he stared up he saw yet another carbon copy of every nurse in the place, and he yanked his blanket over his stomach. 'Yes, that. We're at a disagreement on the matter of calling the police. It's unclear whether you brought yourself here or was brought here since I can't look at your file,'

He had to get the police here and to believe him. Some simple blood work and a recollection of what happened that night should do the trick. 'Few days?' Neil muttered to himself, 'so Andrew Minyard's finally out then?'

'He's leaving shortly. How is the pain?'

'Pretty bad. Obviously you can't drug me better, but do you at least have alcohol?' Neil asked,

 'Weak paracetamol. After you take them we'll do some tests with you, since you bumped your head on the way down,' and when she disappeared from the open door Neil Yanked the drip out of his arm. He closed his eyes for a moment at the pain that shot up and down his body, and wiped away the blood on his arm. 

He'd never been in a hospital room before, never escaped from one either (especially when he knew he'd be caught eventually) but it didn't matter. He shuffled his way out of the room with each step causing sharp stinging like a thousand bees attacking him, or a knife slicing his stomach.

Neil pushed down the thought of his father and his minions being with him with each step he took.  

He managed to make it to reception without being caught and luckily Proust was nowhere to be seen quite yet. But Neil knew he'd come, Andrew was leaving, of course he'd come. 'Andrew!' Neil called, beside Andrew on the other side of the glass was a boy who purred an _oo la la whose this?_ And began to talk about Neil being Andrew's quick obsession. 

As if anyone would have sex feeling this ill and gross. 'How good is your memory?' Andrew asked, Neil, not wanting to tease him about the question and their truth Game replied,

'good enough, if need be,' 

Andrew rattled out a number, repeating it once after and Neil nodded slowly, 'if I wrote it, Proust would burn it. Remember it, Junkie,' a phone number, Neil didn't know exactly _when_ to call or if he even would, but he nodded none the less. 'Remember our deal, Junkie,' 

'Will you tell Kevin I'd kill him if I didn't respect how he plays Exy,' Neil mumbled, staring over Andrew's shoulder. Kevin impatiently sat, tapping his foot on the ground. Honestly, Neil wouldn't kill anyone who wasn't a danger to him...but he could imagine himself hitting Kevin, and that was good enough. 

'You're still whining about Exy. I'm going to regret talking to a pipe dream,'

'Most people do. Try not to kill anyone,' 

'No promises, Abram,' and just like Andrew was gone and Neil was left with a warm feeling in his chest like a shot of whisky that masks damages to your body. And Neil had to think - _oh no_ because he always thought those words but they came out in the form of shooting a gun or running. But he was thinking this because his chest was warm and he'd miss Andrew.

He'd been put here to stop being dependent on drugs but now he suddenly had become dependent on Andrew Minyard.

And now he had one place left to go with one hope - a long shot of an idea based entirely on the desperation of men. One goal in mind, as he headed for the phones. You could call loved ones but Neil had yet to even glance in their direction. He had many numbers and places and coded words memorised, but right in the front of his mind beside Andrew's phone number was the number of the station that was working on his father's case.

'Hello, could you patch me through with the lead investigator in the Wesninski case,' it had been so long since Neil had actually spoken his second name, it sent chills down his spine.


End file.
